Potent Rewards
by Heather68
Summary: The final battle is over and Snape is ready to collect his reward, but is he ready for the consequences that come with it?
1. Chapter 1

_**Co-Written with stormypup**_

**Disclaimer:** All places and characters belong to JK Rowling and the WB and various publishers. We just take good care of their characters in the mean time. No money is being made off this piece of fiction.

**A/N: **This was written in the aftermath of **Danger in the Healing **meaning we wrote it quickly to purge and perhaps prove to ourselves that we weren't all dried up. That and we got bored waiting for a new challenge to spark our interest. This fic, like **Danger in the Healing**, is also complete (6 chapters long) and shall be updated on either Wednesday or Thursday of each week.

* * *

**Chapter One **The celebration at 12 Grimmauld Place had been going on for some time now, and Severus Snape wanted nothing more than to leave. The Dark Lord was dead, and it was certainly worth celebrating, but Snape was not in a mind to celebrate. 

He had yet to claim his victory prize.

The only reason he was there at all was because of the small vial in his pocket. The odorless, tasteless, potion that just needed to be tipped into Potter's drink-if the adoring masses would leave the boy alone for five minutes!

Snape knew he should have followed his instincts and slipped it to Potter while he was still in the infirmary, and then he never would have to attend this party at all. Now he was stuck, waiting on Potter, as per usual. "Blasted boy," he growled, sipping at his fire whiskey.

He watched as Molly called her youngest boy over, leaving Harry alone. Finally.

Severus made his way to Potter, who was looking at the spread of food on the table before him. There were various meats and cheeses along with an assortment of crackers for people to nibble on. He sidled up beside Harry, feigning interest in the food.

"Hullo Professor," Harry said, giving him an awkward smile. He may have saved the boy's arse, yet again, but he couldn't imagine they would ever be friends.

Not yet anyway.

"Potter," he acknowledge, surveying the food. One hand was in the pocket of his robe, fondling the vial. He scanned the room for Moody, his only real worry, the only one clever enough to pay attention to Snape. He was in deep conversation across the room with Lupin and Charlie Weasley.

His thumb popped the top off the vial as he glanced at Harry's nearly full glass of punch, then back at the room at large. It was almost too perfect when the moment finally came. It couldn't have gone better had it been planned himself.

The moment Tonks entered the room holding a tray full of puddings, he knew he had his chance. Molly rushed to her side to take the tray before something 'tragic' could happen, but she was too late. Distracted by Molly's shout, Tonks turned to her, but her feet kept going forward. She inevitably stumbled, causing the tray to go flying, and there were a room full of spells shooting her direction to catch the tray.

He deftly tipped the potion into Harry's punch, and walked away, fading back into the shadows of the room. He stayed long enough to watch Potter drink the punch, and without another word to anyone, he left the party, a predatory smile on his face.

* * *

Sunlight streamed into the Gryffindor boy's tower illuminating the only figure still laying in bed. Harry Potter did not know that he was currently sleeping through breakfast, nor did he know that if he remained in bed for another fifteen minutes he'd be late for his first NEWTS potion's class for his 7th year. This problem would seem a lot less terrifying if he hadn't had to beg, on his knees, that summer for Snape to take him back into his class. He'd have to take real Remedial Potions after hours just to catch up to the point he was supposed to be at. 

"Harry! Harry what are you still doing in bed?!"

Harry groaned and rolled over towards the window. He groaned louder and opened one eye to glare at the rising sun.

"Harry get up!" Hermione shrieked. "You're going to be late! Do you want Snape to-"

"FUCK!" Harry catapulted out of bed and scrambled around to his trunk. How could he have been so stupid? Snape was going to kill him, and he couldn't afford to get on Snape's bad side this early on in the school year. Hell, Snape had no reason to be even slightly nice to him anymore. With the war over he was just another annoying student "Don't just stand there and glare at me, Hermione. Help me find my tie!"

"Well, where did you see it last?" she asked, getting down on her hands and knees to look under the closest bed.

Harry pulled his head out of the trunk and stripped out of his pajama top, not even giving Hermione the chance to look away. He pulled on his wrinkled white collared shirt and haphazardly did the buttons. He was just glad that Snape didn't dock points for imprecise dress, because he sure as hell didn't have time to fix the buttons. Grabbing his pants, he motioned for Hermione to turn around with one finger. She huffed and rolled her eyes, muttering, but she did as commanded.

He pulled on his pants and began tucking in his shirt as he turned around. "Go ahead," he told her, motioning toward the door, "no sense in both of us being late."

"But your tie -"

Harry waved her off. "Thanks for waking me, now go!" he told her.

"Hurry!" she warned, but left the dormitory, closing the door behind her.

Harry sat on the bed and tugged on his trainers, his eyes scanning the room. "Yes!" he said triumphantly, spotted one of Dean's ties hanging on his bedpost. Grabbing the tie and his bag, Harry made a mad dash for the dungeon.

He didn't slow down until he hit the corridor before the potion's classroom. He could already hear Snape talking and sighed heavily. Maybe he could just sneak in the back and he wouldn't be noticed. He nodded to himself. It was a perfect plan. No one ever sat in the back of these classes...right?

He peered into the half empty classroom, still unaccustomed to the smaller class sizes 7th years had. It also meant unless he had suddenly discovered Dumbledore's trick to being invisible without a cloak, he was screwed.

Well, he wasn't going to get off easily this time, even if he was only three minutes late. Squaring his shoulders, and hefting his bag higher onto his shoulder, he entered the classroom, hoping he didn't look as winded as he felt.

Snape was facing the board, reading aloud the expectations for his NEWT-level potions class. "You will be expected to spend time in the lab outside of class time if you wish to pass this class," he didn't have to turn around to know that Potter had finally arrived, "and that will be 15 points from Gryffindor," he said, not even breaking stride as he turned to face the class.

His eyes traveled over Potter, taking a quick inventory of the boy. _Wrinkled shirt, tie askew, face flushed, panting slightly_. He allowed his lip to curl in displeasure, ignoring the tightening in his groin. "You, of all people, Potter," he said, bracing his hands on his desk, "cannot afford to be even a second late to this class. You will fail" He locked eyes with Harry for a moment before looking over the rest of the class.

"Turn to page seven in your textbooks," he said, dismissing the matter. "You will be making simple calming draughts, something even a first year can do," he said, his expression telling them all he thought they were incapable of even that. "These will be used by Madame Pomfrey and I expect them to be to my standard. If they are not, you will receive a zero, and if you receive five zeros in the term, you will be expelled from this class," he said, focusing once again on Harry.

"Begin!"

Harry slunk into an open seat in the back of the room and sighed. He could still feel Snape's gaze on him as if it had never left, but it had left. Harry was staring quite openly at Snape who was not looking back. This was a nightmare, why had he thought that working together to bring about the demise of Voldemort would ever change their relationship? His skin felt clammy and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Quickly, and quietly he pulled out his potions text, grateful that he had the entire workbench to himself.

Snape watched as the students got out their texts and various ingredients. He bent over his desk, his stringy hair obscuring his face, allowing him to watch Potter work. Each ingredient was carefully measured, and he was pleased to see Potter double check the book before adding each ingredient. It would be a shame to have to kick the boy out of class too soon. Part of the fun was going to be watching the potion slowly take affect. Of course, if all else failed, there was always detention.

Harry carefully placed in the last ingredient with fear. This, if he succeeded, would be the first successful potion he had brewed in well...forever really. He couldn't understand why he was so focused on getting it right. It wasn't like Snape would ever admit he had done the potion right, but maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to avoid getting a detention the first class of the year. It would be a miracle, no doubt.

He picked up the stirring rod and slowly stirred the potion counterclockwise for 3 minutes, 3 mind-numbing minutes, before he placed it beside the cauldron and lowered the flame. He had to wait exactly a half an hour before he could decant the potion and clean up. The class ended in 40 minutes, glancing around he was satisfied to see everyone else finishing off and turning down their flames as well. He was on time and he was inordinately pleased with himself.

Seeing the majority of students putting aside their potions, he began walking among the tables, study the color of each potion. In general, his NEWT-level classes were usually able to complete their first assignment with minimal fuss, and this year was no exception. He actually enjoyed teaching when he wasn't forced to work with imbeciles and idiots.

He walked up behind Harry, standing close enough that their robes brushed against one another. "Barely passable," he said softly, his breath warm against Harry's ear. "You are treading on very thin ice, Mister Potter," he reminded.

Harry's mouth dropped open and he shot a worried glance over at Hermione's potion to see how far off the color was and it wasn't at all. It was the same bloody shade of blue. He turned in his seat to tell Snape just what he thought of this unfair treatment when something stopped him. He suddenly couldn't breathe at all. He felt compelled to apologize and-he shuddered-call Snape his master. He quickly turned back to his potion.

"I'm sorry, m-sir. I'll try harder next time."

"See that you do," Snape replied, then turned and walked away, robes billowing behind him. A feeling of triumph coursed through his veins, though his face was expressionless. "If done correctly, you should have enough in your cauldron's for ten vials of potion for use in the infirmary. You will fill those ten vials and leave them on your tables. Any questions? Good," he said before any questions could be asked. "You will write a two foot essay on the various uses of the Calming Draught, due next lesson."

"Harry, are you all right you look a bit peaky."

Harry smiled wanly and shouldered his bag as he made to leave the Potion's classroom. "I'm all right."

"Are you sure?" she asked, worriedly touching his arm. "You look like you've swallowed a Billywig."

"Potter," Snape said, not looking up from his desk, "stay. Alone," he added, lifting dark eyes to Hermione.

Harry sighed and patted Hermione's hand awkwardly. "I'll see you later, Hermione." He glanced over at Snape before taking a step closer to her. "Save me a seat in Transfiguration. I don't want to be alone in a class again."

Snape waited until Granger had left the room before walking around the desk to stand in front of Potter. He made certain to violate the boy's personal space. "It is my understanding that not only am I _forced_ to take you into my class, but I am also _forced_ to allow you to attend my remedial potions class," he said, walking in a slow circle around Harry.

"That class was intended for younger students who fell behind due to issues beyond their control, unlike you who are merely an idiot," he growled. "Tonight, 7:00, do not be late."

"Yes sir," Harry said calmly as possible, which wasn't very calmly at all. He grit his teeth and nodded curtly. "Is that all, professor?"

Snape looked Harry up and down. "You will also take more care with your appearance," he said, lip curled in disgust. His statement was more a test to see how far the potion had progressed than any real care about the boys clothing.

Harry blinked slowly. "My what, sir?"

"Your appearance, Potter," Snape said, exaggerating each syllable. "You will not come to class looking like you slept in your clothes."

Harry looked down at his clothing knowing he should feel offended, very offended and possibly worried that Snape was looking at his clothing. Compelled to apologize, he blurted out, "I'm sorry! Please don't take house points, sir."

Snape nodded. "Do not let it happen again," Snape replied. "Dismissed," he said, turning on his heel, a pleased smirk on his face. Things were progressing very well indeed.

* * *

Harry tried not to think about the conversation again for the rest of the day, but he couldn't ignore it the following. Despite the oddness in the situation, he had to call upon Dobby the day before to make sure all his clothing were neat and tidy for the following day of school. He wanted to impress Snape and though the idea of it made him sick, he just couldn't ignore the command. It was almost...painful to try. Which he had- he had tried to all the way to the kitchen when he went to ask Dobby and he tried all the next morning as he paid painstaking attention to the details of his clothing. Not one button was misbuttoned, his tie was on properly, heck even his shoes were shining like they had when he first bought them. 

He raked his fingers through his wet black hair trying to get it to settle into something resembling order.

"It's a lost cause, dearie."

Harry glared at the mirror. "What do you know."

The mirror clucked sympathetically. "Your hair is just like your father's. Not even the finest products could make it stay down."

Arm poised to rake through his hair again, he turned fully towards the mirror addressing him. "Nothing worked, nothing at all?"

"Well, he did get it to stay down once, but it was some gooblydee gook of a spell and in the end his hair went a rather fetching shade of green."

"Right, nothing works then."

"Sorry, dearie."

Harry sighed, his arm slumping down to his side. He checked himself over in the mirror one last time, before heading out of the boy's dormitory and into the crowded common room. He suddenly wished he had taken his invisibility cloak with him, because he certainly didn't want to tell anyone that he had to take remedial potions again, or why he looked so pressed and clean when that morning he'd dressed like he had the morning before.

"Where you off to then?" Ron called from his seat on the couch beside Hermione. Hermione hit Ron on the arm making the red head flinch. "What was that for?"

"For being insensitive."

"Insensitive? How was asking Harry where he's going insensitive?"

Hermione huffed and picked up her Charm's textbook and buried her nose within the pages. "Boys," she muttered.

"What'd I say?" Ron asked, looking between Harry and Hermione. "Talk about sensitive," he said, getting to his feet before Hermione hit him again.

Ron actually took a moment to take in Harry's appearance. "Wow, you got a date or something? Why didn't ya tell me?" His eyes widened and he looked around the room. "It's not Ginny is it?"

Harry glared at the book Hermione had engrossed herself in before shaking his head. "No, not Ginny, no."

Ron stared at him disbelievingly. "Then who, mate? Don't leave me hanging here."

"I don't have a date, Ron," Harry hissed under his breath, "I've got Remedial Potions with Snape."

"What? Still?" Ron yelped in reply, but toned himself down under Harry's dirty look. "Bad lot of luck that is."

"Yeah, but I actually need it this time if I want to stay in Snape's class, it's not the other Remedial Potions."

Ron whistled low. "Least he won't be rummaging through your head anymore."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, feeling more relieved than he would have thought he would have been. "I'll be back in two hours."

"Good luck with that." Ron clapped him on the back and Harry stumbled forward slightly.

"Thanks, I'm going to need that." Straightening his robe, he headed out of the common room and down towards the dungeons. It was going to be a long walk, one he'd normally go faster for, but he had to keep his appearance tidy and damn it he would.

* * *

Snape sat at his desk, his pocket watch out, watching the seconds tick away. Potter had 45 more seconds before he would be technically late. He had yet to decide whether it would be more enjoyable to punish him on his first night, or not, when Harry entered the classroom. 

Snape snapped the pocket watch closed.

Harry didn't want to scurry the last few steps, but being late again with Snape would be bad, bad, bad. Glancing at his watch, he picked up the pace to an almost full out run and managed to squeak through the door just as his watch hit seven o'clock and the clock in the classroom rang out the hour. He sighed and adjusted his robes, brushing off imaginary lint before walking forward and stopping in front of Snape's desk.

Snape said nothing as Potter stood before, letting nearly a minute pass before he spoke. While the boy fidgeted and looked nervous, he did nothing to break the silence. Finally, Snape spoke.

"I hope you appreciate the fact that I am taking a night out of my week to teach you things you would know already, had you paid the least bit of attention in my classes for the last six years," he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "It would appear that McGonagall is as lenient with you as Dumbledore has been. Tell me, Potter, why is it you garner so many considerations, while other students are left to actually work?"

Harry's mouth dropped open and a tiny voice in the back of his mind asked him what he had honestly expected. He closed his mouth and shook his head, shrugging uncertainly.

"I have no idea, Professor."

Snape snorted. "At least you have dressed appropriately, even if you are completely clueless. Come with me," he said, pushing back his chair and standing up. He led Harry to the ingredients cabinet on the far side of the room. With a wave of his wand, the doors unlocked and opened gently.

"Tonight, you will go through the student stores and identify the most often-used potion ingredients. It should take no more than an hour. When you have finished that, bring your list to me and I will give you your next assignment." He looked at Harry for a moment, and when no questions were forthcoming, he gave him a curt nod and returned to his desk.

Harry didn't even nod. He didn't trust himself to not blurt out something incriminating, since he couldn't even seem to stand up for himself anymore. What the hell was wrong with him? He let Snape walk all over him and he hadn't done a thing to stop him. He had wanted him to walk all over him. Maybe something had happened when he had killed Voldemort. Maybe he was cursed, or worse, maybe he was slipping just like everyone had expected it to. He just had to make sure no of importance noticed the odd way he became subdued under Snape's commands.

It didn't help that he was achingly hard as well. That problem was more worrisome, because, while he was 17 this hadn't happened since he was 14. He did not get random erections anymore. It just wasn't done.

He entered the student storeroom and half shuffled, half walked to the far end of the closet, certain that if he turned at all Snape would see his problem and ridicule him more. And with the way he had been responding to Snape tonight, he'd probably blurt out something horrifyingly embarrassing, like he could only get it up when thinking about the great greasy bat himself. No, some conversations were best left unsaid and he had a task to attend to, and that was the last he thought of his problems and behavior as he scanned the shelves looking for ingredients that were immediately familiar.

It took him about 37 minutes to find all the ones he could think of off the top of his head and another 10 to list them all and recheck the list to make sure he hadn't missed one of the mainly used ingredients, imagine if he forgot something as stupid as shrivelfig.

List in hand and feeling confident that he hadn't missed any, he exited the storeroom and went to stand in front of Snape's desk.

Snape didn't even bother to look up from his papers, merely held out his hand for Harry's list. He scanned it quickly then tossed it into the garbage bin next to his desk. He interlaced his fingers together and placed his elbows on the desk, looking at Harry thoughtfully. Snape took his time, eyes traveling down Harry's body, admiring the corded muscle in his neck, down passed his sweater. Potter's pants were still crisp and smooth across his firm thighs, and though he wasn't entirely certain, it looked like the boy was actually aroused.

His eyes traveled back to Harry's face, which was now flushed. Snape kept his expression neutral as he said, "Mr. Filch has apparently run low on Doxycide. It was a potion you should have been able to make last year. I seem to recall that you failed miserably in the attempt. Tonight, you will try again and you will stay until you have done it correctly."

"Yes, sir." Harry inclined his head and scooted away from Snape's desk and scrutinizing gaze as fast as he could.

Snape watched as Harry thumbed through his potion book, stopping when he found the right page. He divided his attention between Harry and the papers on his desk for a time before deciding the boy needed help were he ever to succeed in making the potion correctly.

Pushing back from his desk, he stood and walked to the table and looked into the cauldron. "It's not dark enough, add more boomslang skin."

Harry looked up and nodded before carefully slicing another piece up then put them into the potion and stirred it in. He stepped back and watched as the potion turned to a deep shade of black.

"How do you always know that?" Harry asked, quite forgetting whom he was talking to. "I mean, how do you always know what to add to stabilize or change the consistency or color? It's not in any textbook I've ever read." His eyes widened and he bit his lip, struggling not to bow his head in shame.

Snape was genuinely surprised by the question and thought for a moment before answering.

"How do you know when to pull up from a dive on your broom?"

Harry shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. "I don't know, I just do."

"It's called instinct, Potter. Instinct combined with experience and experimentation has allowed me to become a Master of Potions. Mistakes are acceptable when you learn from them," he said, looking down his nose at Potter. "You, Mister Potter, never seem to learn from your mistakes, you just continue to repeat them. Stir," he said, nodding at toward the cauldron.

"Shi-, er, sorry," Harry said, stirring the potion quickly.

"Stop!" Snape said, shaking his head. He reached out wrapped his long fingers around Harry's hand. "Counterclockwise," he said, shifting over to stand behind Harry. "Slowly with sure, smooth, strokes," he said against Harry's ear.

Harry swallowed convulsively as he let his hand by moved. _Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. _If Snape hadn't known before one look down would surely tell him now and Merlin how he wanted Snape to look, to see how much he yearned to be touched there- and he suddenly wanted to vomit all over the place.

He did not fancy Snape, did not, did not, did not!

Snape could feel the heat radiating from Potter, could almost taste his arousal. He let himself enjoy it for a moment before stepping back, face impassive. "It's passable. Barely," he said, stepping around Potter and returning to his desk and sitting down. "There are containers on the shelf, fill them and go. I will expect a one foot essay on the effects of Doxycide in pest control next week."

Snape bent his head over his desk, hiding a smile of triumph. One day soon, Potter would be gagging for it, and oh, it would be sweet.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter. I shall update again next Wednesday. Please leave a comment. Concrit is welcome. 


	2. Chapter 2

_**Co-Written with stormypup**_

**Disclaimer:** All places and characters belong to JK Rowling and the WB and various publishers. We just take good care of their characters in the mean time. No money is being made off this piece of fiction.

**A/N: **This was written in the aftermath of **Danger in the Healing **meaning we wrote it quickly to purge and perhaps prove to ourselves that we weren't all dried up. That and we got bored waiting for a new challenge to spark our interest. This fic, like **Danger in the Healing**, is also complete (6 chapters long) and shall be updated on either Wednesday or Thursday of each week.

Also, I'd like to thank my beta-reader, NSW, who keeps up with the exasperating pace which I send her things.

* * *

_**Chapter Two**_

The next morning came too soon for Harry. Having begged off the second he had entered the common room the night before, he was bound to be pestered the next morning. He really hadn't expected Ron to be so damn persistent about the matter. Why did he care so damn much what Harry had done in a Potion's class?

"Harry, come on, mate, tell me, how bad was it?"

"Oh leave off him, Ron," Ginny groused, pinning her hair back with a purple clip. She winked at Harry and brushed past him, trailing her dainty fingers up his arm. At one point it would have given him goosebumps and made him flush, well, it still gave him goosebumps but in the same way you get them when anyone brushes their hands along your skin accidentally. Ginny looked at him oddly for a moment and Harry wondered if she had noticed his reaction had been somewhat lacking.

"No offense, Ginny, but he's my best mate and if I know Snape, that lesson was no picnic."

Hermione cuffed Ron on the back of the head before lacing her arm through his. "Seriously Ron, that's enough out of you. We don't need you spouting off so early in the morning."

Ron turned an odd shade of puce and looked down at his girlfriend of 4 months. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we don't need to get so flustered this early. Harry doesn't even look fully awake yet."

Harry arched an eyebrow curiously and Hermione winked. Harry quickly looked away and hurried forward to catch up with Ginny. The red head girl looked up at him and smiled and caught his hand in hers.

* * *

Snape was taking a bite of his eggs when Harry walked into the room with the Weasley chit attached to his hand. His knuckles turned white as his finger clenched around his fork in a death grip. He shouldn't have been surprised, considering Harry had been interested in the chit before, but he had rather hoped the potion's affect would have been further along by now. He had no doubt it was working, Potter's reaction the night before was evidence of that, but apparently it needed a little push. 

He forced himself to remain calm, forced his fingers to relax. As he ate, he kept an eye on the Gryffindor table, looking for the slightest excuse to take points or give a detention, anything to vent his frustration on the girl.

Harry's house was absurdly well behaved that morning, and it was only increasing his irritation. It didn't help that Ginny was using every opportunity to practically fondle Potter. He glanced surreptitiously around the head table before placing his hand on his wand. A moment later, the pitcher of pumpkin juice _accidentally_ fell into the girl's lap.

Snape's eggs suddenly tasted much better.

* * *

Harry sighed in relief as Ginny's clinging fingers released his arm and finally allowed him to eat what was before him. He dug in ignoring Ginny's cries of dismay and embarrassment. With relish, he munched down two sausages and took a fast swig of pumpkin juice to wash it all down. 

He glanced surreptitiously at the staff table and saw Snape looking more smug than usual. Not so odd, considering it was Snape and he always looked superior...and terrifying, but there was no real reason for the smugness that Harry could pin down but the upset pitcher. But why would Snape do it? He picked at his eggs, less hungry than just a minute ago. Snape was becoming an enigma, a bad one, because he couldn't ask Hermione to help figure it out, without telling her all his problems. Telling his best friend, his girl best friend about his random erections at very bad times was a no go, at least for now. If it got any worse he'd talk to her about it.

Content in his decision, he polished off his meal and listened to Ron and Hermione bicker. He didn't dare let his mind drift to his dreams, no, nightmares, but oh so hot and, he wasn't thinking about it not at all, not there in the Great Hall surrounded by people, he most certainly was not. Shakily, he picked up his goblet of juice and took a nervous sip, hoping his cheeks weren't as flushed as they felt.

* * *

Snape had watched the Gryffindor table from behind the curtain of his hair. He felt inordinately pleased that Potter had actually looked relieved when the Weasley girl had finally stopped pawing at him. It could, of course, be wishful thinking on his part, but he trusted his abilities in reading people. Snape had actually begun to doubt his potion making skills, but Potter all but ignoring the flailing wench had reassured him. 

His potion was working. He may have underestimated Potter's ability to resist its affects, but he should never have doubted himself. He was a Master after all.

_Master._

Snape had to suppress a shiver at the thought of word coming from Harry's mouth. _Yes, Master. How can I please you, Master?_

He excused himself from the table and stood, looking at Potter as he pushed his chair back under the table. He found Harry's eyes on him and had to fight to keep the triumphant smile from his face. Potter turned away, but not before Snape could see the flush to his cheeks.

Snape turned and exited the Great Hall through the teacher's entrance, smiling when he found himself alone in the corridor. He felt an actual pang of disappointment to realize he would not have Potter in class again until tomorrow. However, he was a patient man, and waiting would make it all the sweeter.

Severus Snape was falling apart and someone was going to pay for it. Actually, nearly everyone he came in contact with was paying for it, even his Slytherins, who had lost 15 points in the last three days. Of course, all of the other houses had lost over 100, so it was all right. The one person he needed to take his frustrations upon, was holed up in Gryffindor tower, doing Merlin knew what. The brat hadn't been seen by anyone but his housemates for days!

This was not part of the plan! The boy was supposed to need him, he was not supposed to need the boy!

If Potter did deign to show up for class, Snape would just have to kick him out anyway, which would only exacerbate the problem. This was simply unacceptable! He was itching to go drag the boy out of his bloody hiding place and…and…fuck him insensible! Then hex him until he couldn't stand. Or perhaps, just fuck him until he couldn't stand? No reason he couldn't do both.

"What?!" he snapped at Granger, who was holding her blasted hand up in the air.

"Sorry sir, but shouldn't we be taking these off the flame now?" she asked.

Snape snarled. "Miss Granger, if I wanted you to take your cauldrons off the flame, I would have bloody well told you to do so! Ten points for your know-it-all cheek!"

He made a show of checking his pocket watch for a moment before snapping, "Now, you may take your cauldrons off the flame," he said, sneering at Granger. The class as a whole was staring at him, wide-eyed. "Well? What are you waiting for?" he snapped.

Snape paced back and forth, his clenching and unclenching compulsively. He had nearly reached his limit. At the moment, he wanted to wring her scrawny little neck and tell her to produce Potter immediately!

He was not supposed to be having trouble eating, trouble sleeping. He was not the one who was to become obsessive! Snape went over and over the potion in his head, every ingredient, every step, and was certain he had made no mistakes. There was no bloody reason for this!

Snape looked at his pocket watch again, and then at the class, who was busy bottling their potions. "Finish and turn in your vials, you have two minutes!" He didn't think he could look at them a moment longer without throttling the lot of them!

* * *

Harry stared at the ceiling frustrated beyond belief. He should be in Potion's right now; he should have been at Remedial on Wednesday night, and at Potion's Wednesday morning. He should have gone to his other classes as well and eaten in the Great Hall, but he just couldn't move himself from his bed. 

By Tuesday, his lack of appetite had become apparent to both him and Hermione. She had suggested he go see Madame Pomfrey, and if the lost of appetite had happened a week before, he would have. Before the dreams started, the fantasies, the endless fucking erections that were so unhealthy he couldn't begin to describe the pain he sometimes found himself in. And it was all because of Snape. Fucking Severus Snape and his greasy black hair, and his ugly hooked nose and sallow skin, and his fucking sexy voice that could keep him entranced all day and night and fuck!

He sat up abruptly and gripped at his hair. He just had to stop thinking about Snape. That was it. It couldn't be too hard. It hadn't been in years past, and it shouldn't be now. Right, think of something stupid Potter, stupid and pointless and something Snape would not be associated with. Quidditch! Yeah, Quidditch worked, he hadn't given Quidditch a passing thought since…well…he couldn't remember now. He looked down at his calloused hands knowing that most of them no longer were from Quidditch but from the final battle and the training leading up to it. Training with Snape, okay, Quidditch is out.

He sighed heavily and leaned back on his palms and stared across the room at Seamus's bed. The other boy hadn't made his bed that morning, actually none of them had, except for Harry and he had been compulsively straightening it out and his own wrinkling clothing since he had gotten dressed, all because Snape had criticized his appearance, almost a month ago! It was crazy and he was becoming desperate and needy. He had never thought he needed much of anything before but all he wanted to do was be near Snape, sitting near him on the floor by his legs.

Green eyes misted over with aggravation and a bit of fear. This was not normal. He was not normal. He was a freak, the only idiot to develop a thing for the dungeon monster. It wasn't fair! This wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to obsess over Snape anymore. He was the good guy. Hermione's constant stance that Snape was good was right. He could stop thinking about him now!

But he couldn't, he couldn't stop thinking about him. Every day since school began, it had been getting worse. During the summer he'd spare a few passing thoughts and dirty sheets on the man, but now-he glared furiously down at his traitorous cock that was pressing hard and insistent against his slacks-he thought about the man from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep, and even in his dreams the slimy git wouldn't leave him alone.

He was scared to sleep, he couldn't eat, and he didn't even feel like he could go to the bathroom without permission. Bloody hell, he'd waste away if he didn't do something and soon. He checked his watch and saw Potion's ended in ten minutes, just long enough for him to haul his scrawny arse down into the dungeons of the castle to confront Snape, to beg him to…do something anything to make this stop, to make him better, because he didn't think he'd make it through October.

He walked, almost trembling, down to the dank dungeon of the castle and followed its maze of corridors to the Potion's classroom. Sparing a glance at his watch, he discovered he had exactly 2 minutes before class let out and Snape was nothing if not prompt. He leaned against the rough stonewall and hit his head gently against it. Closing his eyes, he exhaled softly and rubbed at the moisture, not tears, from beneath his eyes. He strangely felt like he was going to his execution, one he freely accepted.

Exactly two minutes later, Snape's voice rang out into the corridor dismissing them all with the friendly reminder that they had a 4-foot paper on lethal potions due at the next class. Hermione was the last one to exit looking as bad as he felt.

"Harry!" she exclaimed in shock, before engulfing him in a hug.

Harry grunted and patted her awkwardly until she released him. He felt like he was being electrocuted by static cling, yet she showed no signs of noticing it.

He glanced into the classroom to see Snape fuming at his desk. This was his chance, perhaps his only to get the man alone and beg him to set him right.

"Harry?"

Harry looked at his best friend and offered her a small reassuring smile. "I'm all right," he said. "I just need to talk to Snape is all."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"NO!" Harry shouted then winced and lowered his voice, "No, I'll be all right on my own. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Will I really, Harry? Are you actually going to stop faking an illness and grace us with your presence once more?"

Harry bit his lip and turned his head away.

"Oh Harry." She rubbed his arm affectionately. "We're just worried, you know?"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Take better care of yourself, Potter, just because you saved the planet and fulfilled a prophecy, doesn't mean you aren't needed any more. We still need you."

Hermione sighed and pecked his forehead. "I'll see you later."

Harry nodded and waited until she had disappeared up the stairs, before he slumped back against the wall to regain some of his senses.

He turned to see Snape still hunched over his desk. Merlin, why was he doing this? One look down reminded him. Taking a deep breath, he entered the classroom and shut the door, rather louder than intended, behind him.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

At the sound of Potter's voice, Snape's head snapped up, his dark eyes boring into Potter. Before he could think, he was across the room and had Potter pressed up against the wall, his hand at the boy's throat. "Where have you been?" he hissed angrily, barely noticing that the unbearable itching underneath his skin had finally stopped.

Harry gulped and struggled for a moment panic gripping him, before it subsided and he bowed his head in defeat. "I'm sorry, master. I didn't mean to make you angry."

Snape stepped back, leaving the boy slumped against the wall. This is exactly what he wanted. Potter was at his mercy, would do anything he asked of him. Why was it making him feel ill?

He drew himself up to his full height, his lip curling into a disgusted sneer. "But you did make me angry, Potter," he said, his voice cold, his own nagging guilt making him angrier. "You kept me waiting, and I do not like to be kept waiting boy."

"I'm sorry, master, I didn't know." Harry sunk to his knees, his head remained bowed. "I'll try harder next time."

Snape grabbed Harry's hair, and pulled him to his feet. "Stand up," he growled, shoving Harry toward the back of the room. He waved his wand, undoing the wards to his inner office. Grabbing Harry's arm, he dragged him through the hidden door, reapplying the wards behind him.

When he was certain they wouldn't be disturbed, he had Harry pressed up against the wall once again. This time, his hands were busy, shoving the boy's robes off his shoulders, tugging his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers. "Is this what you need, Potter?" he said, his voice tinged with disdain. Snape's heart was pounding too hard. He was finding it hard to think. He undid Harry's trousers and shoved them down, exposing Harry to him. He gripped Harry's cock, squeezing him roughly. He bent his head, biting roughly at Harry's neck. "Cum damn you," he growled.

Harry gasped loudly and came without further prompting. He shuddered and gasped his head falling back and eyes wide as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

Snape stood there, panting against Harry's neck, his fingers still wrapped around Harry's cock. There was semen all over his hand, on his robes. He wouldn't be surprised to find it on the opposing wall; Potter's orgasm was so hard. The small room stank of sex and arousal, and he was still fully clothed.

Snape held up his hand before Harry's face. "Lick up your mess, Potter.".

"If it so pleases you master," Harry murmured dropping to his knees once more and grabbed Snape's hand. He sucked one of Snape's fingers into his mouth slowly cleaning the digit with his tongue.

Seeing Potter there, on his knees, his tongue...oh Merlin his tongue, lapping at his hand like a cat. Snape was afraid he was going to come without Potter's help, and that was unacceptable.

Using his free hand, Snape undid his trousers and slid his hand inside, removing his rock hard prick. He wanted to shove it into Potter's mouth, fuck his throat. But he couldn't bring himself to go that far.

Instead, he pulled Harry's hand to his cock, his fingers wrapping around Harry's as they gripped him. He orgasmed a moment later, covering part of Harry's face and hair with his semen.

Snape released him then, casting a cleaning spell on the both of them and doing up his trousers. "Get up!"

He waited until Harry managed to get his pants done up again before speaking. "You will speak of this to no one. You will go to the Great Hall, and you will eat tonight. You will return here for detention. Is that clear?" he asked in clipped tones.

Harry stared at him for a long moment, swaying gently before nodding. "Yes, master."

Snape was finding that this meek acting Potter was not at all what he wanted. Potter seemed to be too broken, too pathetic, and he was going to have to fix it. The fact that he actually wanted to fix it annoyed the hell out of him.

"If I see the Weasley chit touching you in any way," he began, but stopped, clenching his jaw together. "Return to me at 8:00, do not be late," he said, waving his wand and releasing the wards. "Go."

Harry didn't need to be told twice and scrambled from the classroom feeling like he should be confused and perhaps frightened but the only real emotion he had was contentment. His master wasn't angry with him, and he was allowed to eat again!

His stomach grumbled in agreement with his mind and he headed towards the kitchens, since everyone else would be at class and his master hadn't instructed him to do so. Plus, he felt no inclination to go anyway. Of course, his master also had said he was to eat tonight not just in general and that made him stop right in the middle of the hallway. He had nowhere to go. He gazed around Hogwart's interior around him feeling lost and confused.

The rational side of him told him to turn back and ask his master's permission, but his less than rational side told him that would be disobeying. But really, what else could he do? He turned on his heel and headed back the way he came and knocked softly on Snape's office door.

"What?" Snape snapped, pulling open the door.

Harry shifted anxiously from foot to foot. "I'm sorry, Master, but Idon'tknowwhattodofortherestofthedaysoIcameheretoaskandI'm sorry!"

Snape blinked in confusion. What did he mean, he didn't know what to do with himself? "Do what you're expected to do, Potter. Attend your classes, go to meals, do...whatever it is you do! Merlin, you don't need my permission to take a piss, Potter!"

His stomach dropped. "Do you???"

Harry flushed and looked away before shaking his head slowly. No, that had been the one thing he could do.

Snape looked around the halls and pulled Harry inside his office. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. The potion wasn't supposed to take away Potter's free will completely! Just sublimate it a bit, make him more pliable in Snape's hands.

"What else do you believe you need permission for?" he asked, watching Harry intently.

Harry shrugged and blinked then shook his head a tad as if clearing his ears, then stared at Snape oddly for a moment before the expression disappeared back into confusion.

"I don't know, Master."

Snape felt his panic rising. This wasn't right, this wasn't right at all.

"Potter, listen to me very carefully," Snape said, gripping Harry's face between his fingers. "You will behave as if nothing has changed. You will go about your day as usual, you will act as you always have, unless we are alone together. Do you understand? Nothing has changed. Speak of this to no one!"

There had to be a way to counteract this, a potion he could make, a spell, something! This was too close to the Imperious Curse, he could thrown into Azkaban if anyone were to find out!

"Do you understand?" he asked, shaking Harry a bit roughly.

"You're hurting me," he whispered. His eyes widened in shock and horror and he nodded frantically. "Yes, Master, I understand."

Snape released him, feeling slightly horrified. "Do not call me Master," he said, afraid the boy would use it in class, or in front of Minerva! "Professor or Sir, no Master unless I give you explicit permission to do so."

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

"I'll see you tonight. Just...act as you always have until then!" He opened the door. "But stay away from the Weasley chit!" he added, just because there we some things he did not wish to see.

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione squealed when he entered the common room just before lunch. The frizzy brunette acted like she hadn't seen him in ages instead of just that morning. He caught her easily, his master had told him nothing about his other friends just Ginny. 

"Hey, Hermione."

"Oh Harry we've been looking everywhere for you when you didn't show up for Transfiguration."

Harry swallowed convulsively and shrugged sheepishly. "I'm sorry. You didn't miss any classes because of me did you?"

"No, not at all, we were just worried about you," she said, pulling him to the couch. "Are you feeling better then? What happened with Professor Snape? Is he letting you make up the class?"

"Bet he got detention for the rest of his life," called Seamus from across the room.

Harry looked between of them, smiling nervously. "Ah yeah, detention, starting tonight," Harry said, shrugging. "Could have been worse," he added, smiling. He was supposed to act normal. This was normal, right? "How mad was McGonagall?"

Hermione bit her lip. "She wants to speak to you, Harry. She said if you didn't go find her by tonight she'd come and find you."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Best get this bit of torture over than."

Ron smiled encouragingly and nudged him, before slinging an arm over his shoulder. "I wouldn't worry too much, mate. She's just as worried about you as the rest of us have been. I doubt she'll do more than ask after you. She seemed upset, you can imagine how weird that is, in class today when you didn't show. And Hermione told me Snape threw a fit today in Potion's."

"He did?" Harry asked injecting enough guilt into his tone that he almost felt it. He searched Hermione's face and cringed. "What did he do?"

"I've never been so humiliated, Harry. I swear the man's been on edge since-"

She stopped so abruptly that Harry could almost feel it physically. He knew what she was about to say as well. "Since I stopped going to class."

Hermione nodded and looked away, but not soon enough and Harry saw tears building in her eyes.

"Shit, Hermione," he said going to hug her but Ron beat him to it and enveloped his girlfriend in a gentle embrace. Harry stared at them wistfully, but shook it off. He could never entertain thoughts like that about his Master, it simply wasn't done. His hand dropped to his side and he glanced towards the portrait hole. "I'll go see Professor McGonagall then."

When no one protested, he exited the common room and headed towards his Head of House's office. He stood outside her door for a moment before knocking.

"Enter," called the aged voice of Minerva McGonagall, and Harry pushed open the door and poked his head inside.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

McGonagall removed her glasses, looking Harry over. "Yes, Mister Potter, do sit down," she said, motioning to the chair across from her desk.

Harry sat down, folding his hands in his lap, feeling like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He tried not to shift nervously under her gaze.

"Would you care to explain why you have not been attending classes? I received no reports from Madame Pomfrey that you were ill," she said, arching her brow as she looked at him. "Is there something bothering you?"

"No ma'am, not at all," he said, the lie coming far to easily. Harry would tell her anything she wanted to hear, as long as his Master came to no harm. He had thought about what to tell her, all the way over to her office. "I think it all sort of caught up to me," he said, making his voice sound smaller. "The war, killing Voldemort and everything. Being here without Professor Dumbledore, it just..." he let his voice trail off, allowing her to fill in the blanks.

She removed her glasses, setting them on the desk. "I wish you would have told someone Harry, we could have gotten you some help, there are healers trained in -".

"No," Harry said, cutting her off. "It was just something I had to handle on my own. I'm sorry I worried you, and I know I have class work I need to make up, and I will. I just...I just needed some time to sort things out. I'm alright now," he said, giving her his best reassuring smile.

"Potter, you do realize that Professor Snape has a rule in his NEWT level class. If you miss even one more day, he will throw you out, and I will not be able to intervene," she warned.

Harry's stomach dropped to the floor at the thought of disappointing his Master that way. "Yes ma'am, it won't happen again, I promise. I um, talked to m- Professor Snape before coming here. I've got detention and I'll try and catch up."

McGonagall nodded, clasping her hands together on the desk. "See that you do," she said, smiling at him softly. "Off you go, Potter," she said, waving her hand toward the door.

Harry stood. "Thank you, Professor," he said, giving her a grateful smile.

"Please, Harry, if you find yourself dwelling on things, talk to your friends, or come to me, and we'll find a better solution than you holing up in your room."

"I will ma'am, thank you," he said, smiling until he was out in the corridor with the door closed behind him. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. He wanted to go find his Master and tell him what he had done, that he was a good boy, and said all the right things. But he knew he couldn't. He had to go to Herbology as he was told to do.

Harry dashed back to the common room to grab his books.

* * *

**A/N:** I'd like to thank everyone who commented on chapter one. They were awfully nice and fun to read and I'm sorry if you didn't get a reply to yours personally.

Please Review


	3. Chapter 3

_**Co-Written with stormypup**_

**Disclaimer:** All places and characters belong to JK Rowling and the WB and various publishers. We just take good care of their characters in the mean time. No money is being made off this piece of fiction.

**A/N: **This was written in the aftermath of **Danger in the Healing **meaning we wrote it quickly to purge and perhaps prove to ourselves that we weren't all dried up. That and we got bored waiting for a new challenge to spark our interest. This fic, like **Danger in the Healing**, is also complete (6 chapters long) and shall be updated on either Wednesday or Thursday of each week.

Also, I'd like to thank my beta-reader, NSW, who keeps up with the exasperating pace which I send her things.

* * *

_**Chapter Three **_

Eight o'clock never seemed to come at a slower pace before. Harry was just about bursting at the brim with all the things he had done today that would have pleased his Master. He raced through the corridors with a stupid grin and luck was with him that he passed no one on his sprint down to the dungeons and Snape's office. If anyone saw him running to a detention, they would have thought him cursed.

He skidded to a halt and only knocked twice on Snape's door, practically brimming with excitement that he couldn't explain. He hoped his Master would be pleased with him, he really did.

Snape opened the door and stepped back, wordlessly allowing Harry inside. He closed the door and looked at the boy who was grinning like an imbecile. "Why are you smiling?" he asked, frowning.

Harry's smile faded slightly. "I did like you said," Harry explained wearily. He inched forward, craving reassurance.

Snape nodded, distracted. He had been going over his notes all afternoon, but he still wasn't entirely sure what had gone wrong. "Come with me," he said, leading Harry through a side door and down the hall to another small room where he had some equipment set up.

"Take off your robes," he said, gathering the items he needed.

Harry blinked once before complying with the order. He shrugged out of his robes and let them fall in a pile behind him. Next went the gray sweater vest and it took his glasses with it. His tie went quickly, followed closely by his shirt and shoes and trousers. He lifted his leg and took off one sock than the other and finally once all of his clothing was in a pile he took of his y-fronts. The air was cooler than he remembered, but he reckoned it was because he never was in the dungeons without clothing on.

Snape heard Harry removing his robes and went about preparing the bulbous syringe to remove a vial of the boy's blood. "Hold out your arm," he said, turning.

He nearly dropped the syringe, his eyes taking in Harry's naked body. Firm stomach, hard thighs, flushed skin, and aroused cock.

"What are you doing?" he rasped.

"What you asked me to," Harry said, his brows furrowing in confusion. "This is what you wanted right?"

_Gods yes!_

Snape reached out a hand, trailing a long finger down Harry's neck, across the bruise he had left earlier, and down his chest. Harry moaned softly, and Snape looked at him, but his eyes were vacant. Snape knew he could have taken him, right there. Bend him over a desk and bugger him raw, and the boy would smile and thank him.

His hand snapped back to his side. _Wasn't that the point of all this? Make Potter a willing toy, bend him to will and whim_? The victory tasted like ashes.

He grabbed Harry's arm and braced it under his own. "Hold still," he said and said the spell that would activate the syringe. Harry gasped as it penetrated his skin, but he held perfectly still. When Snape was satisfied with the amount of blood, he released the spell and uttered a quick healing charm on the area.

"Get dressed," he snapped, "and meet me in the lab."

Harry nodded and bent down and started putting back on his clothing, resisting touching himself in the way his Master hadn't. Had he done something wrong? Was his Master displeased? Oh, he hoped not. He put on his clothing faster lest his master get impatient and rushed into the lab. His clothing wasn't nearly as neat as it usually was and he feverishly wished he had spent a little extra time smoothing out his image. He walked up calmly to where Snape was standing and stood silently until acknowledged.

Snape went to the lab and pulled a piece of parchment from a book, looking it over quickly. He felt when Harry came to stand beside him, but the boy said nothing, waiting for orders like a good little soldier. Snape sighed. Might as well make use of it while he could.

"Can you mix this base, without error?" Snape asked, handing the piece of parchment to Harry. The base was simple, and it would save him time if Harry helped.

Harry took the parchment. The command had been indirect but all he wanted to do was please and if this would please his master than he would do it and perfectly too.

He skimmed the parchment quickly before nodding, making it look like he had actually spent time thinking if he could do this or not.

"Yes, sir."

"No mistakes," Snape reminded him, pulling a small cauldron down from the shelf and handing it to Harry. The two worked in silence, and it pleased Snape to see Harry being meticulous from the preparing of the ingredients, to the actual mixing of the potion.

Harry finished first, and he waited quietly while Snape worked. When Snape removed his cauldron from the flame, Harry looked at him expectantly.

Snape studied Harry base carefully, making sure the color and consistency were correct. Satisfied, he nodded. "Well done, Potter," he said, the praise coming as a surprise, even to him.

Harry's eyes widened and his ridiculous grin was back in place. "Thank you," he said quietly, stepping back from the workbench.

Snape saw this and felt his left eye begin to twitch. If Harry continued to defer to him in everything he did, he would surely wring the boy's neck and then he really would find himself in Azkaban. Harry, while trying to hide it, still looked like he wanted something more, something Snape didn't have the time or will power to give. If he ever wanted to finish this potion by the morning, the brat would have to go.

"You're dismissed."

"Dismissed?" Harry asked, his lips pursing in confusion.

Snape set the stirring rod on the wooden desk and turned to face the boy with exasperation. "Yes, you may leave, I have no further use for you tonight."

"Oh." Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Okay then."

Snape waited until he heard the door to the lab close before returning to his potion. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache and knew that it was going to be a very long night indeed.

Harry returned to his common room, feeling rejected and miserable. He'd been told he'd done well, but he'd been dismissed. Obviously, he could have done better, or his Master would have let him stay. He felt sick to his stomach.

He opened the portrait into the common room and stepped inside. He was relieved to see that everyone had gone to bed already, he wasn't sure he could face his friends right now. The portrait closed behind him, and head of red hair popped up from the other side of the couch.

"Harry! I must have dozed off waiting for you. What time is it?" Ginny Weasley asked, stretching in a way Harry would have found appealing at one time. But now, all he could hear was his Master's voice, telling him to stay away from her. It was one of the few things he was told not to do, and he wasn't about to disobey, not when he had been such an abysmal failure already tonight.

"I forgot something, I'll be right back," he said, swallowing hard and opening the portrait door.

Ginny bounded up to him, all smiles. "I'll come with you!"

"No!" Harry said, stepping just out of reach. "Uh, you'll get in trouble being out after curfew, I can at least blame it on detention." His skin was beginning to itch. He had to get back to the dungeons. "I'll be right back, don't wait up!" he said, closing the portrait quickly behind him.

Harry ran full tilt back to the dungeons, ignoring the shouts of Peeves, and jumping over Mrs. Norris. If he could get back, he wouldn't be sick. His Master would make it all right.

The door to the lab was still open, and Harry came to an abrupt halt, panting noisily.

Snape could actually feel the boy returning, he knew he was coming back, even before Harry showed up breathless at the door. He turned, folding his arms across his chest and looking Harry over. "Did you forget something?" Snape asked, knowing full well the answer already. If this potion didn't fix things, they were in a world of hurt.

"I," Harry panted for a few moments, gripping the doorframe, "I can't. Why does my skin itch?" he asked finally getting to the question that was pressing on his mind. He swiftly made a promise to himself to never directly question his Master again, but then, his Master had also been the one to tell him to act normal and he was trying so hard. But his skin felt warm and prickly and he just needed something, anything to make it feel better.

_Fucking potion._

Snape could explain to Harry that a component in the potion he slipped him was creating an unexpected two-way bond between them, instead of the one-way bond Snape had been hoping for. He could explain in great detail the affect it was beginning to have on him, the way his thoughts were betraying him. But he'd rather cut out his own tongue than do that.

Instead, he sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. "Just sit here quietly, and I daresay the feeling will pass." He returned his attention to the potion.

Harry bit his lip and struggled with himself. His master said, "sit" and there was a chair open but… He stepped closer and the itchy feeling faded. That clinched it, he would sit, but as close to Snape as he could and that was it.

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing?"

Harry bit his lip and bowed his head. "Kneeling, sir?"

Snape sighed. "Yes, I can see that, but I want to know why you're kneeling at my feet?"

"Because it makes the itching stop," Harry whimpered, feeling close to crying. He hadn't meant to disobey, he would be punished now and he fully deserved it too.

Shaking his head, feeling resigned, Snape spelled the door closed. _So this was getting what you want, Potter kneeling at your feet_. He looked Potter who had his head bowed and body tense, as if waiting to be kicked or beaten. His hand reached out to stroke the boy's unruly hair, but he managed to stop himself before any actual contact was made.

_Fight it you weak willed imbecile_!

Snape forced his attention away from Harry, pretending that he wasn't there, practically curled around his ankles.

But he couldn't ignore the boy for long. Harry leaned sideways and butted his forehead against Snape's thigh and stayed there. He could count the seconds before Harry relaxed completely, comforted by the fact that he wasn't going to be pushed away. He glanced down again against his better judgment and found that Harry had shifted and was slumped against his legs. He felt Potter exhale shakily and that was the end of it.

Snape pried his eyes from the top of Harry's head and got back to work. He still had another two hours of this before he could leave his Potion and go to bed. The urge to just run his fingers calmly through Harry's messy hair had dimmed some but was still there and he was horrified to find himself reaching towards the boy again.

"Master?"

Snape jerked his hand back violently and looked down to see if Harry had noticed, but the brat was still facing into his legs.

"What, Potter?"

"The itching's gone."

Snape snorted at the bewilderment in Potter's tone, but he couldn't begrudge him. It was his fault that Harry was like this in the first place. "I know."

Silence fell between them and Snape found himself absorbed in his work, to the point he could almost forget Potter was still laying at his feet. The constant warmth the closeness was affording him was helping him stay focused on the task at hand. His feet had never been this warm before.

Two hours passed slowly as he had to keep rechecking the instructions to make sure he didn't bollocks this one up as well. It wouldn't serve well to make Potter worse, or him for that matter either. He turned the flame down and cast a stasis charm on the potion and set the stirring rod carefully on the table.

"Potter, get up."

Snape waited a moment and when the boy didn't even move he realized the problem. Harry had fallen asleep sometime during the potion making process. Snape bent over and grunted as he awkwardly picked Harry off the floor.

Potter was heavier than he expected, and his back was tired from standing all day. Snape made to the door, and then shook his head. He was too exhausted to be carrying the brat around, but he didn't want to let him go yet either. He felt relaxed for the first time in days.

Potter nuzzled his head against his neck and murmured, "Master."

Sighing, Snape slid down the wall. "Move your legs," he ordered, scowling at the absurdity of it all. Harry looked at him with sleepy eyes, and tried to nuzzle against him again. "Potter! Shift over!" he ordered, and the boy began to get off his lap, looking like he had been kicked.

"Damn it," Snape growled. He spread his legs and got Harry sitting on the floor in front of him, then pulled him back against his chest.

"Thank you, Master," Harry said, his eyes drifting closed, a content smile on his face.

Snape beat his head against the wall behind him. How had it all gone so terribly wrong? He was fairly certain now that putting his own blood into the potion had been the problem. Instead of bonding the boy to him, sublimating his will to him, it had bonded him to the boy as well.

And ruined everything.

Even if he managed to reverse it, Potter wouldn't forget everything that had happened. Snape would deny everything of course; blame it on someone else playing a prank on the two of them. He had merely fixed the problem when he realized what was happening to Potter. No, to both of them. He could blame it all on the Dark Lord, a last curse when he realized Snape's betrayal. Obviously he wanted Potter to go mad, and Snape to be the cause.

There was the incident in the storeroom, but he could blame that on the curse as well. He was _compelled_ to end Potter's pain, so he did the only he could do, he got the boy off, then sent him on his way. He took no pleasure in it; he didn't force the boy to return the favor. He did what needed to be done, then sent him away.

Yes, Snape was fairly certain he could escape from this relatively unscathed. Potter would be angry, and ashamed, and hate him more than ever, but that wasn't his problem.

Then why was his chest tightening painfully at the thought?

"Potter, wake up!" he snapped, shaking the boy roughly.

"Yes, Master?" Harry replied groggily.

"Get up and return to your dormitory."

"But..." Harry sighed. "Yes, Master," he said, resigned. He got to his feet, and Snape followed suit.

Snape opened the door. "You're not in trouble! Return in the morning, and you can take the potion that will fix this," Snape told him, rubbing his face tiredly.

Harry brightened at the thought of returning the next morning. His Master wasn't angry. He had done well. "Yes, Master. Goodnight," Harry said, smiling happily.

Snape rolled his eyes and shoved the boy out the door. The morning couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

Harry woke up feeling better than he had in a month. He sat up and stretched his arms wildly over his head, yawning broadly. No one else was up yet and that made it easier to sneak out of the dorm. He meandered slowly through the halls in nothing more than his pajamas, bathrobe and slippers. 

Mrs. Norris mewled at him from the top of the stairs leading down into the dungeons and he bent over and scratched the confused cat between the ears. He was certain she hadn't had anyone but Filch touch her in ages and he was surprised when she started rubbing against his fingers in return. He smiled warmly as he straightened up and headed off again. Mrs. Norris followed him close behind and occasionally wound between his legs, forcing him to stop so he didn't trip. He bet Filch would through a fit if he saw how affectionate his love starved cat was being.

"Do you act this way around other students?" he asked the scraggly cat, when she rubbed up against his leg again.

"Potter?"

Harry glanced up and saw his Master glaring at him blearily, his hair more disheveled than Harry could recall ever seeing it before. He suspected he had woken to Mrs. Norris's noisy yowling. Harry mimed quiet at the cat and was amazed when she stopped her obvious noise making immediately. He saw his Master's eyebrows fly upward at that.

Harry shrugged sheepishly, not quite sure how to explain it. Best he could figure the cat was just happy to have someone be nice to it. "Good morning, Master," he said, smiling.

Snape buried his face in his hands for a moment before looking at Harry. "Why didn't you get dressed? Do you often wander the halls in your pajamas?"

Harry had the good grace to blush and pick at his robe in embarrassment. "Sometimes, late at night I would."

Snape sighed and shook his head. "Come get your potion, and you can get out before someone sees you," he said, opening the door to the lab. The potion looked as he expected it to look, and Snape used the small ladle to pour a measure vial worth. He handed it to Harry.

"Drink."

Harry took the vial and downed it without complaint, well, verbal complaint. He wrinkled his nose and shook his head at the bitter taste.

"Tastes like piss," he commented, and then blinked owlishly. He had never spoken like that to his Master before. "What was it?"

"If all goes well, you shouldn't 'itch' anymore," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Now leave me in peace. We'll know soon enough if it didn't work."

"Yes, Master."

Harry bit his lip uncertainly as he stared at the door. There was something he had wanted to do the night before and hadn't for fear of his Master's reaction, but his master sounded so defeated and sad. It felt like he was being sent away forever. Before he could second-guess himself, Harry wrapped his arms around his Master's waist and hugged the man tightly.

Snape stiffened, but didn't move away, didn't really respond in any way. He just waited until Harry let go, and stepped away. Snape turned away and braced his hands on the counter top. "Go back to your room, Potter."

"Yes, sir," he said, before fleeing from the laboratory, slamming the door behind him.

Snape leaned on the counter, exhausted. He could only hope now that the potion would do its job and reverse what had been done to Potter. He was not so certain that it would reverse what had been done to him, however. Snape was never supposed to have been affected at all, and yet here he was, his skin crawling with need.

He would wait for Minerva to come and question him, no doubt Potter would run to her the moment he returned to his senses. Snape had rehearsed his story in his head enough times, that he wasn't at all worried about convincing her of the lie.

As for the rest, he could live without Potter. He would adjust to the irritation eventually, soon be able to ignore it altogether.

At least, he hoped.

* * *

Harry made it back to his common room, his chest heaving as he clamped down on his tears and anger. "You're dismissed, Potter. Get out of my sight, Potter. You're a bloody fool, Potter," he spat under his breath. Why didn't anything just feel normal? A few moments ago, he was perfectly happy, content even, but then Snape had to open his mouth and ruin it all! At least he wasn't calling him Master anymore. 

That was a blessed relief. The past 24 hours were foggy in his mind and he supposed he was grateful that he couldn't recall distinct details of what had occurred, especially with the state of mind he had been in for the past month. He could have jumped Snape and never would remember it. He shuddered at the thought. He just wished he knew why his strange fixation had started in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Co-Written with stormypup**_

**Disclaimer:** All places and characters belong to JK Rowling and the WB and various publishers. We just take good care of their characters in the mean time. No money is being made off this piece of fiction.

**A/N: **This was written in the aftermath of **Danger in the Healing **meaning we wrote it quickly to purge and perhaps prove to ourselves that we weren't all dried up. That and we got bored waiting for a new challenge to spark our interest. This fic, like **Danger in the Healing**, is also complete (6 chapters long) and shall be updated on either Wednesday or Thursday of each week.

Also, I'd like to thank my beta-reader, NSW, who this week is getting her wisdom teeth removed, possibly tomorrow.

* * *

_**Chapter Four**_

The only thing Harry could do over the following days was to throw himself into his studies to bring up his grades. If Snape reported him, at the very least he'd be seen as studious and not a slacker. Maybe, he wouldn't get expelled. Hermione was ecstatic to see him being so intent on his studies, while Ron had wondered if he was under _Imperius_. Hermione shut him up effectively and Harry didn't ask how she managed to do that.

However, despite all that, there was still something slowly gnawing at the back of his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he could not figure out why Snape hadn't made an appearance in days. As a matter of fact, the last time he remembered seeing Snape was when he had fled from the lab four days before. It seemed strange that Snape would hole himself up somewhere. _Unless he's hurt_. A pang of guilt shot through him and he dropped his fork onto his plate with a dull clang.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry shot Hermione an exasperated glance, before grabbing his juice and taking a swig of it. The girl arched a brow and Harry sighed. "I'm fine, Hermione."

She kept her own counsel and went back to her food. However, the worried looks she sent his way made him wonder when she'd be cornering him again.

He had been contemplating telling Hermione what had been happening. Of all his friends, she was the least likely to blow up in his face about it. He knew he could count on her silence. Plus, he really did need her analytical mind to work this through

Snape wasn't consuming his thoughts as frequently anymore, but he still couldn't shrug the feeling that somethingwas wrong. Even if he had been under the influence of some potion or spell, who would want them together in the first place? But, what if it hadn't been an unknown person, then what would he do? How would he feel? He was stuck in between relief that he no longer was hard constantly but he couldn't shake the fact that he had felt safe and comfortable, even if it had been with Snape.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" He looked at Hermione tiredly. "What?"

"We have class in ten minutes, are you sure you're-"

Harry placed a hand over her mouth and smiled. "I'm fine, let's go see if the greasy git has actually slithered out of his hole."

Hermione stifled a giggle. "Harry, that's mean."

Harry shrugged and smiled.

* * *

Snape stared at the parchment on his desk, a fifth year essay on Wolfsbane potion. He'd been staring at the same essay for over five minutes, and he'd yet to grade a single sentence. He was so unbearably tired, his eyes burned from lack of sleep. He had forced down food that morning, despite the fact it tasted like ash and coal. If Minerva tried to feel his forehead one more time, he was going to hex the old cat. At least Pomfrey had left him alone after he snapped at her for the third time. 

Snape set the essay aside and laid his head down on the desk, closing his eyes. He wasn't sure if being in the same room with Potter would help things or make it worse, but in ten minutes, he was going to find out. He didn't raise his head from the desk, too tired to care.

* * *

Harry entered the Potion's classroom laughing, but that good mood didn't last longer than three steps in the door. His eyes widened in shock. Snape was, well, he really didn't look good. He looked like hell, actually. 

He could hear the general murmuring of the classroom and it was all the same as his thoughts. Snape looked like shit. So, why were they there and who was going to go ask if he was all right?

By some bad misfortune of fate, Harry suddenly found himself being stared at pointedly by every member of the class.

"Me?" he mouthed, feeling his stomach bottom out.

Terry Boot nodded solemnly and Harry suddenly got the feeling he was going to be executed. Hermione patted his arm sympathetically. Why was everyone making such a big deal out of this? It wasn't like Snape was going to kill him, he hoped.

He shuffled forward and stopped right in front of Snape's desk. "Sir?"

Snape looked at Harry tiredly, cursing the small measure of relief he felt at the boy's presence. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to inhale Potter's very essence. When he opened them again, he felt more composed. "Take your seat, Potter," he ordered, though it was lacking its usual bite. "Turn to page 98!" he told the rest of the class, his voice sounding raspy, even to his own ears.

Harry stared at Snape warily for a few seconds, before doing as ordered and sitting down next to Hermione. This was going to be an extremely long class.

Snape set them doing a potion that, while new to them, wasn't extremely difficult to make. He sat at his desk, barking the occasional warning when warranted. He could feel Potter's eyes on him, though he felt no desire to meet the boy's gaze. At least he wasn't trembling anymore. His body would adjust, the bond between them would fade. He was a Death Eater for Merlin's sake, not some bloody Hufflepuff!

Snape wondered if he'd still feel the same way if Potter weren't 15 yards away from him.

"Sir?" Harry called out across the silent classroom. His potion wasn't finished yet, not even close actually. All right, he hadn't started it at all. He had been too busy trying to figure out what happened during that 24 hour time period.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape asked, frowning.

Harry squirmed in his seat. "May I be excused?"

Snape swallowed, his stomach dropped. "No."

"But, sir-"

"I said no, Potter, now get back to work."

Harry bit his lip and squirmed uncomfortably on his bench. "Sir, please, I really have to go."

"You're not three, Potter, hold it!" he said, ignoring the giggling of the class.

Harry slammed his head against the tabletop. "Bastard," he hissed quietly at the floor. Hermione clucked her tongue reprovingly and Harry just groaned. He had been holding it, he'd been holding it for the past half hour and if he held it any longer, well, let's just say it would be unpleasant.

"Sir?" he grit out, not raising his head from the worktable, but raising his voice.

"GO!" Snape shouted, already feeling the itching returning. "Just go!"

Harry shot to his feet and scrambled out the door muffled laughter following him all the way down the hall, any sympathy he had felt for Snape before was completely gone in face of that humiliation.

Snape glared at the closed door, his whole body tensing, already willing the boy to come back. He lasted a full minute, a minute that felt like an eternity, before standing, his chair flying backwards. "Zabini! Don't let anything blow up," he growled, and went in search of the annoying brat!

Harry had not anticipated walking headlong into Snape when he exited the bathroom and looking up it appeared Snape hadn't anticipated it either.

"Professor!" he yelped, jumping backwards.

Looking around quickly, Snape grabbed Harry by the back of his robes and shoved him into an empty classroom. Once the door was closed behind them, Snape stood there, staring at the ground, his fist still clenched around Harry's robes. "Just...hold...still," he panted through clenched teeth, feeling humiliated. But the relief his body was going through overwhelmed his own embarrassment.

Harry couldn't move even if he wanted to. If he did, his shirt, not a good idea in the least,'d likely strangle him. So he stood there silently, listening to Snape's heavy breathing, letting the man cling to him for unknown reasons.

Well, okay, he wanted to know the reasons and Snape hadn't told him to remain silent. "Sir, what's wrong with you?"

Snape laughed mirthlessly, wanting to scream at the insanity of it all, and he had no one to blame but himself. He released Harry's robes, and fell against the wall, still not looking up. "I itch, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes widened. "But, the potion, shouldn't it have-"

"It did!" Snape snapped, interrupting him. "It fixed _you_, as it was intended to do," he said, finally meeting Harry's eyes. "As of yet, I have not found a cure for myself."

Harry's mouth opened partially as he stared at Snape for a long moment. He ran a hand through his hair repeatedly. "So that's why you look like shite then?"

Snape snorted. "Indeed," he muttered, before straightening up. "Return to class, Potter. I'll...be there shortly."

"You sure you'll be okay then?"

Snape looked at Harry with dull eyes. "Peachy."

Harry looked at him uncertainly. "All right then." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "If you say that in front of any one else though, they'd probably lock you away in St. Mungos."

_That's the likely outcome anyway._

Snape just looked at Harry until the boy shifted nervously and left the room. Snape took some deep breaths, his mind going through the same exercises he used to get through the Cruciatus curse. A few minutes later, he was striding through the door of the classroom, robes billowing behind him. He felt numerous eyes upon him, but he ignored them all.

"You have ten minutes!" he informed them and began walking the room, inspecting cauldrons.

Harry waited impatiently for class to end. Snape was a right mess and it was partially his fault, although, he wasn't sure how or why. He did know, however, what the itching felt like and even if he did dislike Snape, he wasn't going to let the man's reputation die.

"Get out all of you!" Snape shouted angrily, causing more than half the class to jump in their seats and while they all scrambled to leave, Harry lagged behind, promising he'd catch up in a bit. He remained seated until the last student left before standing and slowly making his way towards Snape's desk. The barely perceptible nod was the only indication he got that Snape knew he was standing there.

"Detention at 7 tonight, sir?"

Snape closed his eyes and nodded, his humiliation now complete.

* * *

At 6:45, Harry excused himself from his study session with Hermione and Ron, the latter had eventually caved under boredom and joined them in their pursuit of knowledge. Confidently, he strode through the long corridors of Hogwart's, nodding at a few of the portraits that waved at him and bending over to scratch Mrs. Norris behind the ears again. 

He couldn't explain what was causing his good mood, but he suspected it had to do with Snape and the fact that for once the tables were turned and Harry was the one in charge. He didn't even bother knocking this time before he strolled casually into Snape's office.

"Good evening, professor," he greeted cheerfully.

Snape could actually feel Potter coming closer, which was both disconcerting and disheartening. When the brat strolled casually in the door, a smile upon his face, Snape wanted nothing more than to slam him to the floor and remind him who his Master was.

Instead, "Did you forget how to knock, Potter?"

Harry shrugged carelessly and perched himself on the corner of Snape's desk, ignoring the dirty look he received for doing so. He picked up a paperweight off the desk and tossed it back and forth between his hands. "How are you this evening, Professor?"

"Are you finding this amusing, Potter?" he spat angrily.

"Perhaps."

Snape was on his feet in an instant. "This is not a good time to push me," he snarled, his face within an inch of Harry's.

"And why is that?" Harry asked. His eyes narrowed challengingly as he waited for Snape to make his next move.

Snape was around the desk before Harry could finish his question, and a moment later, he had Harry on his back across his desk. He bent over the boy, his fingers twisting in the fabric of Harry's collar. "Would you like to ask that question again?" Snape hissed.

Harry's eyes widened a fraction. "What are you doing?"

"It's a little late to be scared, Potter. You always have to push, always need to see just how far you can go, don't you? I warned you, boy, but you refused to listen," Snape answered, his blood pounding so hard in his veins he could hardly think. He also felt more alive than he had in days, more solid, more himself. "It would serve you right if I took what I wanted from you, what I should have taken when you were throwing yourself at me! Coming to my office, practically begging me to make you cum," he snarled, furious now to come to close to having it all, and losing it so spectacularly. "You dreamed about it, didn't you," Snape crooned, "fantasized about my fucking you, and I could have, and you would have _thanked_ me for it!"

He released his hold on Harry, looking at him with disgust. "And you think to come waltzing in here, a cocky grin on your face, just like your father! I'd rather suffer!"

"Let go of me, please."

Snape snorted, looking down at Potter who was still sprawled out on his desk. "I already have," he growled, amused that the boy was so thrown, he hadn't even realized that Snape had let him go moments before.

Harry blinked slowly and sat up, not really looking at Snape, not really looking anywhere.

"Sir?"

Snape slid down the wall, burying his face in his hands, ignoring Harry altogether. He had just given Potter enough ammunition to get him fired, thrown out on his ear, disgraced yet again. And worse than that, he was going to be bonded to the boy until it killed him. Unless he killed himself first, which was a better option than...this.

Harry tilted his head and watched Snape with some alarm. "Sir?" he asked with a bit more urgency.

Snape really didn't want to do this anymore. He'd wanted one thing, one thing to have control over, one thing that was _his_, and when he finally had it, it had felt empty and not at all satisfying. Not only was he tied to yet another Master, he had tied the cord himself.

He pressed his face against his knees, interlocking his fingers behind his head. He should have just let Potter burn a mark into his skin, make it official. Snape was sure he could hear Voldemort laughing at him from beyond the grave.

The second Snape gripped the back of his own head, Harry moved into action. He didn't know what he was doing or why, only that seeing Snape like this, defeated, it made him physically ill. He kneeled beside the Potion's Master and hesitantly placed his hand on the man's shoulder. When he wasn't shrugged away, he squeezed gently.

This entire situation was beginning to give him a headache. He shifted until his knees hit the toes of Snape's shoes. He leaned down and looked at Snape's face through the crack between the man's legs.

"I don't know how to fix it," Snape whispered, wishing for the thousandth time the Dumbledore was still alive. He was the only person who could, if not forgive, at least move passed Snape's horrible choices.

Understanding suddenly passed through Harry leaving him both angry and confused. "What did you do?"

Snape raised his head, meeting Harry's eyes. "I did what I always do, Potter. I tried to take what I wanted using whatever means necessary. And as always happens, it has come back to bite me in the arse in a truly spectacular fashion," he said, his voice hollow. "Shall I call down the Headmistress now, or would you like to call her yourself?" he asked, knowing that it was over now.

It was a strange relief, just saying the words. He had no intention of going to Azkaban, and if he lost his job teaching moronic children it would really be no great loss.

"Why would I call Professor McGonagall, sir?" Harry questioned, truly bewildered. "What does she have to do with any of this?"

Snape shook his head. Just when he thought the boy actually had a brain in his head, he once again showed his boundless stupidity. "She would be the one you speak to in order to get me fired, Potter," he said, speaking as if Potter were a slow child.

"Yes, I understand that, Snape," Harry mimicked his slowness, "and I once again ask you, why I should be calling her?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Harry shook his head. "Because this has nothing to do with her and it never did."

Snape looked at Harry blankly. "What are you talking about?" he asked irritably. Was he dragging this out just to torture him?

"Bloody hell, Snape." Harry locked eyes with him and held. "Ever since the war started all we ever did was fight and for the wrong reasons at that. Every time I tried to extend an olive branch, you threw it back in my face! You kept telling me you hated me but you never gave me a reason why. Why did you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you personally that made you hate me unconditionally from the day I started school? What, Snape? Can you even give me a good reason? You want to know why I'm not reporting you to McGonagall? It's because I'm horribly confused by all of this. You feed me a potion that obviously did not have the effects you intended it to, just to keep me with you. Why did you do that? When did your hatred turn in a different direction? What did you think was going to happen if it succeeded? Why did you do this?"

Harry bowed his head and sat backwards, heavily on the floor. "You owe me, Snape," he finally said after a long pause, "and all I want are answers."

"I didn't just hate you, Potter, I hated the very idea of you. Precious son of James and Lily Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, the bloody Boy Who Lived! The exact opposite of me, hated and reviled from the time I entered school to the day I left it!" Snape spat angrily. "And then you did everything in your power to live up to my expectations- flaunting the rules and getting rewarded for it, just like your father, everyone's hero! While I was the one following along behind you, saving your sorry arse time and time again, just so you could go and do something idiotic to throw it all away again!" he continued, all his old hurts and grudges coming to the surface yet again.

Harry didn't say anything for a long moment as he absorbed all that Snape had just told him. "And you really believed that. That I did all that because I wanted to?"

"No, I think you did it because you couldn't help yourself," Snape said, shaking his head, his lip curled in disdain. "You did it because you felt compelled to save everyone around you, with no thought to yourself. You made it impossible for me to protect you, and yet my life was very much tied up with yours."

"It didn't have to be. You could have just let me go and get killed, but you didn't. You can't hate someone than go risk your own neck to save them. It's just not done."

Snape snorted. "It was in my best interest to keep you alive, Potter, Dumbledore made that perfectly clear and after your fourth year, the Dark Lord made it even clearer. If you were to die, it would be by his hand and none other. He wouldn't have been as nice as Dumbledore had I failed in keeping you in one piece."

"Voldemort was a sick twisted fuck with a black hole of a heart, Snape, but I can't imagine he'd be nicer than Dumbledore, not in that at least-and what am I talking about?" Harry stopped himself and sighed in frustration. "Fine, you hate me because I ruined your life unintentionally, now what about the answers to the other questions?"

"What would you like me to say? That I watched you grow in power, that you filled out nicely and I just couldn't resist your manly charms?" Snape said, laughing derisively. "It's very simple, I wanted you. I attempted to take you. I'm now bound to you for the rest of my life. See my joy," he said, his face expressionless.

"You did it to yourself you know. You can't go blaming this on me as well."

"Of course I can," Snape said, shrugging. He knew exactly who was to blame for this mess, but there was no reason to tell Potter that. Now that Potter had been in the room, touching him even, his skin had finally stopped crawling, and his adrenaline had begun to fade, his exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him. He leaned his head back against the wall.

"I just wanted...something, and I thought you could give it to me," he said, closing his eyes.

"Snape...Severus," Harry didn't dare breath when Snape's eyes snapped up to meet his. "What do you want?"

"You, but I've told you that a number of times this evening. What part aren't you understanding?" he asked, feeling oddly detached.

"The part where Severus Snape wants Harry Potter, but maybe I'm just being unusually thick." He pretended to think on this for a moment before a decidedly wicked grin graced his lips. Before Snape could do any more than stare at him wide eyed, Harry leaned forward and brushed his lips against Snape's. "I don't understand why anyone would want me," he admitted, before capturing Snape's lips once again.

Too tired and too surprised to think, Snape's hand reached up, his fingers gripping the hair on the back of Harry's head, holding him tightly and deepening the kiss, before the boy could change his mind.

Harry sighed happily, moving his lips at a leisurely pace forcing Snape to slow down, before things got too heated. He couldn't explain why this felt so nice nor did he want to question it. He ran a hand through Snape's hair marveling at the way it slid through his fingers.

Groaning, Snape put his hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed him back. "Stop," he growled, ignoring Harry's hurt look to reach for his wand. He spelled the door locked, dropping his wand and grabbed Harry, pulling him back and picking up where they left off.

The feel of his tongue against Harry's was making him light headed, and he wasn't sure if was natural, or if it was due to his bond to him. Then he decided it didn't matter, as long as he didn't stop.

Harry gasped softly and pulled back, leaning his head against Snape knees. His breath came out in short sharp pants and it took him a few seconds before he could look up at Snape again without wanting to jump him.

"You do you realize, don't you, that you're straight," Snape said, tilting his head to study Harry.

"I am?" he asked a bit thickly.

"You also do realize, don't you, that if the Weasley chit tries to grope you in the Great Hall again, she will get more than pumpkin juice in her lap," he continued, scowling.

Harry grinned and nodded. "I figured as much, yes."

"Harry, don't...don't do this if you can't follow through. It will only strengthen my connection to you, and it will make it that much more painful, physically, when you come to your senses and leave me," he said, resting his head on Harry's hands that were covering his knees.

Harry nodded, and tipped Snape's face up so he could see his eyes. "Give me one day. Tomorrow night, I'll tell you."

Snape nodded, and closed his eyes. "I think I might actually be able to sleep tonight."

"When was the last time you slept? Because I haven't slept in two days."

Snape's head lolled to the side as he looked at Harry. "What day did I give you that potion? I slept the day before that."

Harry furrowed his brow in thought. "I believe it was Saturday and it's Wednesday today." His gaze snapped up in shock. "You haven't slept since Friday night?!"

Snape shook his head tiredly. "Five minutes here or there, but then it...then I couldn't. Food tastes like eating ashes. Everything went so wrong," he said, his words slurring a bit now. "I just needed you to fix it, but I couldn't."

"You need to go to sleep then. You haven't done anything dim in your current state like start another potion, have you?"

"No, too tired, knew I'd blow something up. McGonagall keeps trying to take my temperature, nosy cat."

"I'm amazed she hasn't succeeded," Harry murmured. He stood up slowly and looked down at Snape. "You don't need help or anything do you?"

Snape looked at Harry with a brow arch. But then he realized he did need a bit of help after all. He held up an arm toward Harry.

Harry took Snape and helped him up carefully. Snape practically slumped against him once standing. Harry spared a passing thought on the idea that if he had just left and not offered Snape any help the man would have fallen asleep there on the office floor. He knew one thing for sure though, if Snape choose to fall asleep between now and the time they reached his quarters, Harry would find himself squished under the man's weight in the middle of the corridor until someone happened along, and he wasn't mean spirited enough to just leave Snape stranded in the hallway asleep.

"Where are your rooms?" Harry asked, adjusting Snape so the man's arm was draped over his shoulder and Harry could wrap an arm or two depending around Snape's waist.

Snape raised an arm and pointed, with a finger, the general direction to his quarters.

Harry navigated the hallway until he reached the end. Snape jerked his head towards the wall and Harry hoped he wasn't about to bonk their noses against the wall and would find themselves in a secret passage. He turned and walked straight through the wall and found himself as he hoped in a secret passage. Well, at the junction of two secret passageways it seemed.

"Which way?"

"Straight."

Harry didn't nod, instead he moved forward until he came to a door. He reached for the knob and opened it, finding himself in a room he couldn't remember seeing before.

"Are these your...?"

"Yes, Potter," he said drowsily. "These are my rooms."

Harry figured he'd get to look around later as he steered Snape towards the overstuffed armchair. He unhooked Snape's arm from around his neck and gently lowered the tired man into the chair.

Snape pulled Harry down on top of him and buried his face in his neck. "Do you know what I want, Potter? I want know what your cock tastes like, how it tastes when you're spurting down my throat." Snape had satisfied, drowsy smile on his face. "You don't even know if you're a top or bottom, but I can do either way. The first to fuck you. The first to be fucked by you. It all evens out in the wash, but you know what I want, more than anything?"

Harry froze when he was pulled down. Snape's breath caressed his neck and felt his face flush. "What?" he asked breathily, not even daring to turn his head.

Snape snored loudly into Harry's ear.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Co-Written with stormypup**_

**Disclaimer:** All places and characters belong to JK Rowling and the WB and various publishers. We just take good care of their characters in the mean time. No money is being made off this piece of fiction.

**A/N: **This was written in the aftermath of **Danger in the Healing **meaning we wrote it quickly to purge and perhaps prove to ourselves that we weren't all dried up. That and we got bored waiting for a new challenge to spark our interest. This fic, like **Danger in the Healing**, is also complete (6 chapters long) and shall be updated on either Wednesday or Thursday of each week.

I'd like to thank the ever lovely bewarethesmirk for reading through this and telling me I overuse adverbs and character names. You're a peach, love!

* * *

_**Chapter Five**_Harry exhaled shakily and pulled out of Snape's slackened grip. He watched as the man's chest rose and fell slowly with each breath, and felt a faint smile tug at the corner of his lips.

He headed into the next room, Snape's bedroom, and grabbed the cover off the bed and returned to the sitting area. Careful not to disturb the sleeping man, he draped the cover over Snape's prone form and tucked in the edges so it wouldn't slip off. He examined Snape's sunken cheeks and ringed eyes worriedly; he couldn't imagine what Snape had been feeling since Saturday. Yes, there had been a week, it had been bad for him as well, but at least he got to sleep - and not just for short periods of time. It had been all he could do.

He gently swept a strand of greasy, black hair off the man's face, then bent over and kissed his forehead before he could question himself.

He pulled back guiltily. Snape would kill him if he had been awake while he had done that. Creeping quietly across the hardwood floor, he headed towards the exit, dimming the lights with a soft "_Nox_." Licking his lips, he once more scanned Snape's living quarters and, once satisfied, left the way he had gotten in.

Harry jammed his hands into his pockets as he meandered back up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. His thoughts were clear for the first time in a long while and, for once, he thought he could understand everything that had been happening to him since two months before the final battle. Snape hadn't slipped him the potion before then; he knew that for certain. No, his thoughts then had been his own and while they had never been sexual in nature, they had always been ones of respect and yearning. He admitted Hermione's annoying prodding to get him to form a truce with Snape had been part of the reason he had thought about the Potions Master so often in those last few weeks.

Harry had to admit it didn't help that he had been working closely with the man the last few days before the battle. The animosity had reached teeth grinding heights at that time and hadn't simmered until the actual battle arrived.

"Ice mice," Harry intoned, and the Fat Lady smiled graciously and winked at him. He glanced suspiciously about himself wondering if she knew something she shouldn't. He needed to talk to Hermione, tonight.

The common room wasn't as crowded as one expected it to be on a Wednesday night. He found Hermione sitting in the chair by the fire, her Ancient Runes book open on her lap. She looked up at his approach, and he watched her face go from surprise to worry. "Harry! Why aren't you at detention?"

Harry flopped down into the chair next to her. "Don't worry, I, um, was excused. Snape wasn't feeling well, so I'll make it up another night."

"He looked absolutely dreadful today," Hermione said, closing her book, her brow furrowed in thought. "It must be really bad if he canceled a detention." She finally noticed the look on Harry's face. "Are you alright?"

"No, I'm not," he said, shrugging helplessly. He put his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. "It's complicated," he said, looking up at her. "Think you can help me sort it all out?"

Hermione nodded, determination shining clearly through her brown eyes. He knew he could count on her. "Here or somewhere else?"

Harry glanced around the room. "Room of Requirement?"

He watched as her eyes narrowed. "Is it really all that bad?"

"I think it might be, yes."

"Well, all right then." She placed her book beside her on the sofa and stood up. "Let's go."

Harry grinned weakly and took the hand she extended to stand up. "Where's Ron, by the way?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but her smile warmed. "Helping Ginny with a Charms assignment."

"Ron?" Harry asked in surprise as they headed out of the common room. "Our Ron?"

"Of course 'our Ron'. Honestly, Harry, you don't have to act so surprised."

Harry shook his head. "This is Ron we're talking about Hermione, he doesn't help people study. Hell, he doesn't study at all, unless blackmailed into it."

"Actually, Ginny was really upset earlier, and I think Ron is probably distracting her more than helping her," Hermione said, looking pointedly at him. "I don't suppose she has anything to do with this?"

Harry nodded, but said nothing. He hadn't even thought of Ginny lately, in fact, he realized he'd been avoiding her. It hadn't been intentional, not really, he just couldn't deal with her on top of everything else.

They had been sitting in the Room of Requirement for ten minutes before Harry made any move to speak.

"It's about Snape."

"What is?" Hermione placed her teacup on the coffee table between them.

Harry sighed. "My problem it starts and ends with Snape."

"Oh, Harry not this again," Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

"No, it's not about that. It's...different this time."

"Different...how?"

"Well, I don't hate him, though sometimes I really don't like him, and he's done some really fucked up things, but...this is so embarrassing...I think I want him. And I think, no, I know, that he wants me too. Guess that makes me pretty fucked up too."

Hermione's eyebrows reached heights not even Snape's could achieve. "How do you know that?"

"Know what?" Harry asked tiredly, perhaps he should have waited until the morning, but, no, this had to be done nowor he'd never get the courage to talk to her about it again. He rubbed his face vigorously with his hands and slouched backwards into his chair.

"Snape, how do you know Snape...wants," she crinkled her nose a bit at the word, "you?"

_Well, there was the drugging me and trying to make me some kind of mindless slave so he could keep me, only it wasn't quite what he thought it would be, and then he fixed me, even though he can't fix himself, and then there was the kissing, which was surprisingly good, amazing actually._

"We kind of...talked about it?" he said awkwardly.

"Harry, you didn't. You know what could happen if-"

"Please don't tell me there's a rule preventing this," Harry begged.

Hermione's expression softened at his desperate look. "I can't say for sure if there is, I'd have to go look it up in the school's bylaws."

"You mean there's something at this school you haven't read yet?"

"Oh knock it off, Harry." She tossed a bit of scone at his forehead while blushing. "Seriously though, what do you think you're going to do about it?"

"That's just it. I don't know. I don't know what to do in this situation and that's why I asked you. Not that I suspect you've ever had this sort of problem before," he rushed to add, "lusting after a teacherI mean."

"Honestly, did you have use the word lusting? I'm not quite prepared to deal with the imagery of it all," she said, smiling to let him know she was joking. Mostly. At least he wasn't mentioning the whole Lockhart thing, which really, was nothing more than a schoolgirl crush. Mostly.

"If you'd had the dreams I've been having for the last few months, you'd have no problem with the imagery at all," he said, grinning. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

Hermione smiled. "I'm glad you felt you could have this conversation with me. You've been so distant lately Harry, and we've been worried to death about you."

"So what do I do?"

Hermione gazed at him seriously. "For right now don't do anything...intimate with Professor Snape, not until we find out the exact rules. This is really rare you know, despite the fact you would think it wouldn't be, Hogwarts professorshave rarely claimed any kind of attraction to a student and they generally make it a point to steer clear of the student body as a whole in those regards."

Harry arched a brow. "How is it you know that but you don't know if there's any rule forbidding it?"

"Because I read _Hogwarts, A History_, unlike some people I know and there was a very brief passage in it about a student/teacher relationship that ended badly - very badly."

"Dead?" Hermione inclined her head in agreement. "So, it's frowned upon then."

Hermione nodded. "I remember reading that the first time and wondering why the editors felt they needed to make mention of it aside from the fact that both of their spirits remain trapped in these walls."

"I've never seen ghost couples," Harry said, a distinct feeling a dread rising in his stomach.

Hermione traced a finger around the edge of her reclaimed teacup. "You wouldn't Harry, they killed each other."

"Oh, that's just brilliant," Harry said, scrubbing his face. "So who is it? Which ghosts I mean?"

Hermione stared at him impassively. "Do you really want to know?"

"Probably not, but tell me anyway."

"The Grey Lady had been a student in Ravenclaw in the early part of the 17th century. She had been everything a member of Ravenclaw house was supposed to be she was intelligent, charming, driven and competitive. It was a spell that gave her the beauty she possessed, for she had been a homely child and, upon entering Hogwarts took it upon herself to be beautiful, if she wasn't no man would ever ask her to be his bride. Her mother reminded her of this every day and many of her closest friend's began to notice remarkable change. First it was her mouth once thin and severe became soft and seemed to be predestined for smiling then her nose, once more bulbous became small her eyes shone with a cleverness that the had never before possessed and that was only the beginning of her changes.

"Now as fate has it, the Bloody Baron had been the Slytherin Head of House at the time and was not like he is now. While not overly friendly, he was at the very least cordial and apparently stunningly handsome. Many girls in all four Houses developed crushes on him over the years, but none dared approach him, none that is except-"

"The Grey Lady."

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Yes, The Grey Lady. As the story goes she courted his attention in the subtlest way possible sending him small tokens of affection, each one more rare than the last, each more personal. The Bloody Baron was anything but idiotic and figured it out after receiving the fourth token, but he didn't let on that he knew."

"Then how-?"

"Do we know?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"He kept a journal like most people of that era, but unlike most he didn't safeguard his journal with spells. He felt that his mere presence was threatening and he was right in that respect."

"Did the Grey Lady have one as well?"

"Yes, it's been published in Flourish and Blotts actually, both of them have been published and are generally sold together. And before you ask, yes I do own them."

"Sappy romantic," Harry teased, "you only bought them for the romance aspect."

Hermione batted her eyelashes in his direction before giggling. "Do you wish to hear the rest or not?"

Harry smiled and nodded. "Course, it's just getting good."

"Boys," Hermione muttered and brought her hands up to protect her face from the pillow Harry chucked at her. She threw it back and shook her head before resuming her narrative.

"Now the Bloody Baron wasn't in the habit of taking on younger paramours, but even he could not resist the Grey Lady's charming demeanor and slowly he found himself wishing to end the game. He was certain she knew that he had figured her out and that was why she was sending him coy little smiles in the Great Hall and during Defense of the Dark Arts class when no one else was looking.

"Well, that was untrue. Another student named Circe, one of the Lady's good friends, watched the interaction from the sidelines with growing jealousy when she discovered the Baron might be returning the Lady's affections.

"Little did the poor Lady know, that her friend was beginning to plot against her endeavors. She noted her drinks had become sweeter and smelled pleasanter than before during a few meals but there were no other hints of what was to come. The Lady grew bolder in her affection and even once dropped her handkerchief in a crowded hall to garner the Baron's attention, who had graciously picked it up for her and given it back with a roguish grin. These little encounters began to occur all over the school and the Lady became deliriously happy the first time the Baron kissed her in an enclosed alcove near the dungeons. The attraction grew between the two and the school had begun to notice, but none dared to ask. The only one who knew was Circe, the Lady's only confidante, and if asked she would just smile back at them, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"All Hallows Eve, while the rest of the school attended a masque, the Lady and the Baron slipped out of the school and into the Forbidden Forest. It was said that party goers seeking air out in the rose gardens could hear the Lady's crystal laughter echoing, and the Baron's deep baritone chuckle across the grounds as they fled the festivities, but that would be the last time anyone would ever hear either of them say a word.

"The Lady and Baron never returned to the castle that night and the following morning searches began. They were found laying side by side, The Baron's fingers around the Lady's neck and the Lady gripping a dagger that she had plunged into his heart, stomach and lungs." Hermione rubbed at her eyes and sighed deeply. "Foul play was never suspected and the case was ruled as a double homicide and that was that. It wasn't until centuries later when their journals began to circulate that it was discovered that things weren't as clean cut as they had seemed."

"It's a little odd isn't it," Harry observed thoughtfully. "That a love struck student would murder the man she loved and vice versa. You never once mentioned he carried any particular ill will towards another."

"No, and that's what makes their deaths so odd."

"And no one dares ask them?"

Hermione gazed at Harry speculatively. "Some have tried, to be sure, but if they got any answer they never reported it."

"Still doesn't really help me with my Snape problem, does it."

"No," she agreed, "but it proves that there weren't any rules or restrictions against Student/Teacher relationships from the time of the Founders into the late 17th century."

"I just wish I knew what to do, Hermione."

"Do you still hate Snape, Harry? Be honest with yourself."

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't."

Hermione set down her cold tea and crossed the small, cozy room to stand beside Harry's chair. "Then stop listening to this," she said rapping her knuckles against his forehead, "and start listening to this." She poked his chest above his heart and then stepped back.

Harry stared at her in shock. "You really are a sappy romantic."

"I never denied it, did I?" she answered with an impish smile.

"So you're actually telling me, that if I did choose to pursue this, you wouldn't think I was completely insane?" he asked, searching her face.

Hermione sighed. "You never can choose the easy path, can you?" she said, squeezing his hand. "You'll get enough opposition as it is, I won't add to it, though I can't guarantee that Ron and Ginny will be so open to the idea. Can't the two of you wait until you've graduated?"

Harry couldn't meet her eyes as he shook his head. "No, no we really can't."

"Why ever not? Oh, Harry! You've already...done something haven't you? I'd ask you how it was, but I really don't think I want to know the details." Hermione was quiet for a moment. "Yes, I do. How was it??"

Harry gaped at her. "I haven't done anything with him...beyond kissing."

"Well, then why can't you wait? Certainly Professor Snape can wait, he's a grown man, and while you're 17 Harry I still don't get the urgency behind this. Or the suddenness for that matter. What happened?"

"S-someone slipped Snape and I a bonding potion," Harry stammered, quickly thinking about the closest plausible thing to the truth.

"What kind? Those can be extremely tricky."

"Don't I know it," Harry muttered. "I don't know, Snape must have thought, because he immediately set about brewing an antidote and it worked, for the most part. I haven't felt compelled to obey Snape's commands since I took it."

"It turned you into a slave!"

Harry was about to yell at her to keep it down when he remembered where they were. "Yes, but it wasn't all bad. Snape didn't even touch me." _Liar._

"But surely he ordered you around somehow."

"Yes, he told me to act normal and do the things I always did."

"So that's why you suddenly were eating again Wednesday at lunch."

Harry nodded. "He was the nicest he'd probably ever been to me before."

"Than what's the problem, Harry. Why is it you can't wait?"

"Because somehow Snape is still under the effects of the potion, but it seems to have gone in reverse now and has begun to affect him in the way it had been for me. Hermione he's a wreck. I feel guilty for leaving him alone in his quarters."

"So wait, he was able to reverse the effects on you, but not on himself? Harry, you're not just doing this out of guilt are you? I mean, you can't be expected to tie yourself to him out of some sense of obligation. You'll end up miserable!"

"But it's not just obligation! I don't know, maybe the potion affected me on some deeper level, because I still care about him. Hermione, you saw how bad it was for me I'm not just going to walk away from him, leave him to suffer when I think I could be...content with him. Maybe even happy."

Hermione sighed. "I won't fight you on this if you are certain this is what you want to do. But be careful please."

"I'm not the one in danger of being hurt."

"Actually Harry, I think that's what worries me most, that you don't realize that you are," she said, a sad smile up on her face, "just as much as him."

"I have to try. I won't just walk away from this, whatever it is." Hearing the own resolve in his voice, Harry felt surer that he was making the right decision. How many times had Snape saved him? He could return the favor, and he really did believe that he could be happy. He had to at least try.

"Maybe you should keep this a secret for now. See how things go before you have to get anyone riled up."

Harry snorted. "Ron, you mean."

Hermione shoved him. "Not just Ron, you prat. How do you think McGonagall is going to react?"

"It's not like it's our fault!" Harry replied, though in truth, it was Snape's fault, and he knew it. "You said yourself those kind of potions are tricky."

Hermione shook her head. "Still Harry, I just don't think you should let this be known, not yet, not until you see. What if Snape finds a way to reverse it? Will he still feel the same?"

"I think he felt this way before the potion. I won't pretend I understand it, because honestly, I don't, but there is something there between us, I just didn't know what it was. You know?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, I know."

* * *

**A/N: **Only one more chapter left, so I'm going to take this time to tell you all how wonderful I think you are. You've all been extremely supportive and lovely. So, thank you so much!

Please Review


	6. Chapter 6

_**Co-Written with stormypup**_

**Disclaimer:** All places and characters belong to JK Rowling and the WB and various publishers. We just take good care of their characters in the mean time. No money is being made off this piece of fiction.

**A/N: **Welcome to the end. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as we enjoyed writing it. I know I enjoyed getting all your nice comments. They made my morning every update!

I'd also like to thank my beta reader Arenas cause she's my roomie and loves me and loves to tease me about wife "beat"er blushes.

**Chapter Six**

Harry knew that he had until that night to tell Snape his decision, but when he woke up, he found he didn't want to wait. Plus, he really wanted to check on Snape and make sure that he was okay--that he had been able to sleep through the night. Maybe they could have breakfast together. Lord knew the man needed a good meal in him, or at least one that didn't taste like the remains of the fire from the night before. Harry headed towards Snape's office and veered left into the secret passageway that led to Snape's rooms. He figured, considering the outcome from the night before, that he would actually knock on Snape's door, instead of just barging in.

He had even figured out what he was going to tell Snape when he answered the door. With a confidence that he was certain was going to wear off, he knocked on the door and waited.

Snape had only been awake long enough to use the loo and brush his teeth when there was a knocking at his door. He knew immediately who it was, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to answer the door. Actually, he desperately wanted to open the door, and his eagerness was the only thing that was stopping him.

"Sod it," he growled, and stalked to the door to pull it open.

"Good morning," Harry said, a nervous smile on his face. "I wanted to make sure you were all right, and was hoping we could maybe have breakfast together before classes. I kind of thought you might want to taste your food. Unless, well, you don't want to have breakfast," he finished, his confidence failing him as Snape stood in the doorway just staring at him.

After a long pause, Snape stepped back and Harry let out the breath he was holding. "I hope you didn't plan on us eating in the Great Hall," Snape said warily.

Harry blushed. "I thought maybe we could eat here."

"I'll have the House Elves send something down, but you'll have to wait, I need to shower," Snape said. Without another word, he walked from the room, and Harry heard a door close.

He meandered through Snape's sitting room, inspecting the bookshelves and mantel of the fireplace. Snape actually had pictures of people. Who knew? He picked one up and examined it carefully, running his thumb over the glass that protected it. He wondered who had taken this picture, as it appeared to be fairly recent. The Snape in the picture glared up from the book he was reading and Harry mouthed a hasty apology before putting the picture back on the mantel.

He settled himself down on the small sofa and curled his legs beneath him as he waited for Snape to get out of the shower.

When Snape finally emerged from the bathroom, his hair was still wet and he was only wearing his trousers and a white shirt. Even without his outer robes, his clothing was buttoned up tight and Harry wondered if perhaps his clothes were a suit of armor against the world more than anything else. He couldn't help but notice that without his robes, Snape had quite a striking physique.

He also couldn't help but notice that Snape was avoiding looking at him. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," came the curt response and Harry winced.

"If you're sure..."

Snape sighed, rubbing his face with his hands before joining Harry on the sofa. "What would you like to eat?" Snape asked, forcing his voice to a more civil tone. The memories from the night before had him feeling vulnerable and embarrassed, and that in turn, made him defensive.

"Ah, anything would be fine."

"Grilled liver then?" Snape asked.

Harry cringed. "Maybe not anything."

"Thought not. What do you want to eat, Potter?" Snape asked, exaggerating each word.

"Eggs, toast, maybe some sausages?" Harry replied.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Is that a question or a statement?"

"Statement," Harry said, smiling. "Waffles too. I finally have an appetite again, might as well make use of it."

"Stay here," Snape ordered and Harry waited on the couch, picking at the fuzzy bits on his jumper.

Finally, Snape's voice echoed from the other room. "Potter, you may come in now."

Harry jumped to his feet, following the sound of Snape's voice. He was just up the hall in a small kitchen area, the table laden with food.

"That was fast," Harry said, unsure of the protocol now.

Snape smirked. "I believe the house elves were so thrilled to see that I actually ordered more than toast and tea this morning, that they didn't want me changing my mind. Sit."

Harry's stomach growled as he sat, causing a small frown to grace Snape's lips. "Good grief, boy, eat."

Grinning, Harry began filling his plate with food, feeling more relaxed that he ever thought he could by sitting in Snape's quarters eating food with him. Harry took that as a very good sign that he had made the right decision.

Harry waited until Snape was seated and eating before he spoke. "I know I told you that I'd give you my decision tonight, but since I already made it, I figured I might as well just come tell you."

Snape's hands stilled for a moment. "Oh?"

"I'd like to give it a shot," Harry said with more confidence than he felt, "though I don't know how it works, whether there is a rule or something against students and professors - "

"Of course there's a rule," Snape replied, as if he were an idiot for thinking otherwise.

Harry set his fork down on his plate. "Oh."

"Indeed," Snape replied, but he was still eating, so Harry figured he wasn't too worried about it. "You've never struck me as the type to bother with rules."

"I don't want you to get fired either!"

"Then we don't get caught," Snape said, shrugging.

Harry blinked. "Oh."

The two were silent for some time, both lost in their own thoughts.

Something inside Snape was relaxing, settling inside him like a warm blanket. He didn't know how much was due to the odd bond, and how much was his own feeling, but it was making him content. Settled. It was the feeling he had been searching for when he started this whole mess.

There were worse things than being fired, Snape knew, but if they were careful, that need not happen. He was a former spy, and Potter had been sneaking around the castle since he had arrived. Were Dumbledore still alive...well if Dumbledore were still alive, Snape would never have dared slipped the boy anything. The man always _knew_ more than Snape was comfortable with.

Harry cleared his throat, setting his fork down and wiping his mouth with his napkin, before setting it down on his plate. "So, how are we...I mean what am I supposed to do?"

Snape looked at him over his cup of tea, then pushed back his chair. "Come with me."

He lead Harry through a door and into a side corridor that led to some stairs. "These stairs lead to an unused classroom in the Charms corridor. I don't want you seen in the dungeons, and if you use this passage, you never will be. I don't think any of the other staff even remember it exists, except for perhaps Filch, but he knows better than to use it."

"I wonder why it's not on the map," Harry murmured.

"Map?"

"Uh, I'll explain later," Harry said, hoping the man would forget he had mentioned it. He thought Snape was going to push him on it, but after a hard look, he let it go.

"You need to go now, I have things to do before class," Snape said, and Harry couldn't help feel like he was being dismissed.

"But I can come back?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "No, Potter, I showed you this passage so you can _not_ use it."

Harry mock scowled, then smiled. "I'll see you later then." They stood there, and Harry was unsure if he was supposed to give him a hug, or kiss him goodbye, or if he should just go. He settled for giving Snape a quick hug, inhaling his freshly showered scent.

Snape was surprised by the hug, but found himself hugging the boy back. Harry pulled away, smiling brightly. "See ya."

Harry turned to go, but before he could get further than a step, Snape had snaked a hand around Harry's waist, pressing his palm against Harry's stomach and pulling him back against him. He began kissing the back of Harry's neck, his hand flexing against his stomach. "I will not treat you any differently in classes, do not expect any favors," he murmured against Harry's warm neck.

Harry gasped, Snape's tongue and teeth doing things to his neck that were causing his body to respond in ways that were going to making walking difficult. His hand covered Snape's as leaned back against him.

Snape's tongue flicked teasingly against Harry's earlobe before taking it between his lips and sucking gently. "You have work to make up from the days you've missed, and you will continue your remedial classes," Snape said, his words warm against Harry's ear. "And you will work, Potter," he warned, pressing very evident erection against Harry's arse.

"Yes sir," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Snape released him and slapped him stingingly on the arse. "Go."

Harry nearly fell on his bum as Snape stepped away, his body already feeling like gelatin. He rubbed his backside and glared at Snape. "Tease."

Snape merely smiled. "Good day, Potter," he replied, and returned to his rooms, leaving a very aroused and very irritated Harry Potter glaring after him.

**EPILOGUE**

Harry adjusted his tie and ran a hand through his hair as he waited in line with his other classmates just outside the Great Hall. The rainy, June weather did nothing to put a damper on anyone's mood. Harry looked around at all his fellow students with a small smile. Tomorrow none of them would be here anymore, they'd all be off living their own lives and while everyone promised they'd owl one another everyday, soon those once a day missives would dwindle to once a week, then to once every other week, and some would barely speak to their friends once a month.

A warm hand broke into his train of thought. Hermione beamed up at him.

"What do you know that I don't?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing."

Harry sighed and turned to Ron who was also grinning. "Ron, what's Hermione not telling me?"

"Can't tell you that mate, it'll spoil the surprise."

Harry reached out to cuff Ron on the head, but he dodged out of the way too fast. "It's not bad!"

"I hate surprises," Harry growled, straightening his tie for what felt like the hundredth time. "What?" he asked in response to Hermione's smile.

"You talk like him now," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Shut it," Harry said, though he was grinning like mad.

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and, after giving Harry's hand a final squeeze, Hermione released him so that they could join the rest of the seventh years filing into the Hall.

Harry didn't even have to look up to know that Severus was watching him; he could feel the familiar black eyes on him, and it only increased his grin.

Graduation this year had been much anticipated and Harry felt himself being drawn into the excitement with each passing moment. It didn't hurt that he didn't have to speak at it either. Hermione and Justin had that pleasure this year as Head Boy and Head Girl and all he had to do was sit back and listen, because if he didn't, he was certain Hermione would beat him over the head with a book.

It was over sooner then Harry wanted it to be. He was looking forward to life after Hogwarts, life with Severus, but there was that small part of him that wanted to hold on to his past just a moment longer. But now the words were said, the ceremony over, and all that was left was one last gathering with his friends, the most many of them would ever see of each other again.

He found Ron and Hermione in the throng of people, and he couldn't help but grin. At least he knew these two, his best of friends, would always be in his life one way or another.

"You are going to the party tonight, right Harry?"

Harry turned and shrugged at Lavender. "Yeah, I suppose I am."

"Good."

Harry watched her walk off to join Parvati and Padma. He wondered what those three were going to do with themselves now that they were leaving school. Lavender would be very good at reception. She would make a wonderful secretary to someone, not that he'd tell her that.

"So, you're coming then?"

"I did just promise Lavender, Hermione."

Hermione grinned. "Your word to Lavender means nothing to me, Harry."

"I'm coming!" Harry laughed. "Don't worry about it."

"Good, you need to unwind a little."

"I'm unwound!"

"Sure you are, mate," Ron agreed, slinging an arm over his shoulder and steering him through the crowd.

"I am!" he protested.

"Of course you are," Hermione said in a patronizing tone. "That's why you never go out anymore."

Harry spluttered and turned a violent shade of red. "That was low, Hermione."

"The truth hurts, doesn't it Harry?"

Harry went to punch Hermione in the arm when Ron did it to him first. "No touchy the girlfriend."

By the time the lot of them had gathered at the Three Broomsticks--Gryffindors, Slytherins and a spattering of people from the other houses--Harry was quite looking forward to getting pleasantly buzzed. And even more importantly, he was looking forward to seeing Severus without having to sneak around.

Seamus appeared beside him and handed him a glass of amber liquid. "Drink up, Harry! We're free!" he said, clinking his glass against Harry's. Seamus was already looking a bit inebriated; grinning, Harry tossed back his drink in an effort to keep up.

"Harry, slow down!" Hermione laughed, leaning heavily on Ron, as he polished off his third drink. "The party doesn't end until 2."

"Oh leave him alone, Hermione," Ron said taking a deep sip of whatever it was Seamus had been passing around. Harry hadn't asked and neither had Ron. "He can do whatever he wants to."

"Yeah, what he said!"

Hermione giggled and nosed Ron's neck. "I want to dance."

Harry laughed and set the empty glass on the table with a loud clink. He looked out onto the dance floor where approximately half the class had been congregating. He watched as friends bounced wildly about to the songs and couples swayed closer together than was school appropriate.

His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw one of the couples through his fuzzed vision. "Is that Malfoy with Seamus?!"

Ron snickered and set his now finished glass next to Harry's. "That it is. You weren't in the dormitory when he told us. We had a bit of a row over it."

"A row?!" Hermione managed to snap through her giggles. "You punched him in the mouth and he gave you a black eye."

Ron and Harry met eyes and grinned. "Bit of a row," they said in unison.

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a deep sip of the amber liquid. "This stuff is really quite nice you know."

Harry snorted. "We know."

"Come on," Ron said, standing up and helping Hermione out of the booth. "You wanted to dance, so we're gonna dance."

Harry slid further into the booth and the action didn't go unnoticed by his best friends. "Just what do you think you're doing, mister?"

Harry gave Hermione a pleading look, but she ignored it. Instead, she grabbed his wrist and tugged on it.

"I can't dance," he reminded her.

"Oh please," Hermione huffed, not releasing her death grip. "Neither can any of these idiots."

"I take great offense to that."

Hermione smiled blindingly up at Ron. "That's nice, Ronald." She redirected her gaze to Harry and pinned him with a glare. "You're getting you bum on that dance floor, Harry James Potter, whether you like it or not."

"Fine!" Harry laughed, holding his one free hand up in surrender. "I'll come dance with you guys. Sheesh."

The alcohol had done its job in releasing some inhibitions, and Harry found himself enjoying himself out on the dance floor. At one point, it was if the whole great group of them were dancing together, laughing and shouting at each other above the music.

He wasn't even surprised to feel firm hands come around his waist and pull him backwards as the song changed to a slower one. Harry leaned back and closed his eyes and let himself be swayed gently. He inhaled deeply, dropping his head backwards against Snape's chest. His eyes flew open and he abruptly stopped moving, forcing Snape to stop as well.

Hermione was stifling her giggles behind her hand and Ron looked like he was about to burst out in laughter as well. Curiously, he tilted his head backwards to see the amused expression on the older man's face.

"About time you noticed, Potter."

Harry flushed deep scarlet. "Shut it, you."

"As much as I enjoy pressing against your backside, perhaps you would care to turn and do this properly," Snape said, his voice low enough that only Harry could hear.

Harry turned, interlocking his hands behind Snape's neck, oblivious to gawking going on all around him.

"You're intoxicated," Snape remarked, taking in the hooded eyes, and dopey smile, unable to hide his amusement.

Harry giggled; if he had been in a better state of mind, he probably would have been horrified that he had done so and in a very public setting at that. "Yup, right pissed off my arse, actually. Seamus was handing out...this drink--you following me?--it was amber and tickled my throat."

"It's a shame I can't take points; I had other plans for you tonight," Snape said as Harry buried his face in his neck, nuzzling him and making a noise that sounded a lot like purring.

Snape took a moment to look around the room to find everyone staring at the two of them. He'd expected it of course, and found he didn't give a rat's arse about it. He merely leveled his glare on them until they turned away. Only Hermione and Ron were ignoring them, caught up in dancing together.

"You smell nice. Did you know that?" Harry murmured distractedly.

Snape snorted and resisted the urge to cup Harry's bum, just to give the gawkers more of shock. He did, however, slide his hands lower on Harry's hips, his fingers resting just below the waist of Harry's jeans.

Snape scanned the room until he found the face he was looking for. "Finnegan! What are you drinking?" he asked, curious as to what Harry had imbibed.

Finnegan was definitely pissed as he raised his glass up in salute. "Fire whiskey o' course! You two gonna snog?" he asked, and Draco slugged him in the arm.

Harry grinned at the sandy-haired Irishman. His earlier shock at seeing Seamus and Malfoy together was now non-existent. Now he just thought it was hysterically funny. "Dunno, probably, maybe, are we?"

He blinked as Snape actually smiled at him. Well...smirked. Yeah, it was definitely a smirk. Or was it a trick of the light? No, it was a smirk; he was being smirked at most definitely, and without a doubt.

"Would you be upset if we did? Right here. In front of all your friends?" he asked, his smirk becoming more devilish by the second.

Harry chewed on his lip in thought all the while being distracted by the way Malfoy was practically molesting Seamus's neck. "Uhhhh...no?"

"Tsk, it's a shame you don't sound more certain," Snape said with a regretful sigh. "And here I was, going to...well, never mind then."

"Going to what?" Harry prompted. "Come on, Sevvie, what were you gonna do?"

"Sevvie? I do hope you're drunk, because if you called me that sober, I'd have to hex you," Snape growled into Harry's ear. "And as for the rest, it's too late, you weren't interested," he said haughtily, though he was fighting a smile.

Harry pouted, burrowing his head under Snape's chin. The alcohol he had chugged earlier was finally affecting his speech. "M'not drunk. Only had three pints of that fire whisky. S'good stuff."

Snape rolled his eyes, "You don't have enough body weight for one, idiot child," Snape said affectionately, resting his head on top of Harry's. It was his graduation night, so he couldn't blame Harry for wanting to get a bit drunk. In fact, he rather figured he would, and when Hermione asked Snape if wanted to come to the party, he waited a suitable amount to allow Harry to enjoy himself. And apparently, he had done so if the way Harry clinging against him were any indication.

"I can so have more 'n one," Harry protested. He tilted his head back and grinned drunkenly. "Did I tell you how nice you smell yet?"

"Yes, twice now in fact."

"Cause you do, you know." Harry sniffed Snape's shirt and sighed. "Lemon-y."

Snape chuckled, the vibration in his chest made Harry smile. "I love it when you laugh," Harry said, his voice sounding dreamy.

"Potter, are you falling asleep?"

"Probably," Harry admitted, his tight hold on Snape's back loosening slightly. He watched Hermione and Ron sway gently beside them. They both had identical looks of adoration on their faces that Harry only envied a smidge.

"Did you know...did you know them. They're together...like together?" Harry asked, meshing his fingers together trying to prove the point. "And why didn't you tell me."

"Because I didn't need Draco barging in my office at all hours of the night whining at me about what a ignorant prat you were."

Harry frowned. "How long do you reckon they've been like that?"

"Since December. Christmas I believe, Draco told me. When that boy is happy he lets everyone know about it whether you cared to hear all the sordid details or not."

"THAT LONG!" Harry shouted, causing everyone's head to swivel in his and Snape's direction once again. He flushed beet red. "Oops. Did I just scream that?"

"It can only help my reputation, I'm sure," Snape said, leering at Harry. He was far more amused than he should be, but tonight, he could have Potter out in the open, and that in itself was quite liberating. For Snape, it could be considered downright giddy, which was to say, he allowed himself to smile.

"You're smiling. Is that allowed?" Harry asked, returning the smile with his own dopey one nevertheless. He looked over at Hermione and repeated the question to her. "Is Snape allowed to smile, Hermione? Be honest."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course he's allowed to smile. You're acting like an ign-ing...you're acting stupid is what you're doing."

"So then why don't you do that more often?" Harry asked Snape abruptly. "The smile thing. It's nice."

"Because that could harm my reputation," Snape said, his lip forming his normal smirk. "Are you ready to go, or did you wish to remain with your friends for awhile longer?" he asked, looking around at his now, former, students. Good riddance to the lot of them.

"Hermione might make me stay," Harry said, earning a glare from the girl in question. "But I do want to go."

"Then we're going," Snape said, releasing Harry abruptly. "Say your goodbyes, I'll wait for you by the door."

Harry nodded and waited until Snape swept out of the room before staggering over to Ron and Hermione. He slapped Ron on the back weakly earning an equally pathetic punch on the shoulder in return.

"Good luck, mate. Don't do anything I wouldn't."

Hermione sighed and clicked her tongue, before enveloping Harry in her arms. "Be good."

"Yes, mother."

Hermione pinched his cheeks and made cooing sounds causing Harry to laugh. "I'll write. You do have my parent's telephone number, right?"

"Yes, Hermione."

"Good and don't listen to Ron. If you did, you'd never get laid."

"Hermione!" Ron cried. Harry laughed as Ron flushed crimson in embarrassment.

Harry pecked Hermione on the cheek and ungracefully made his way towards the entrance, leaving Ron to fight his own battle. He waved goodbye to Seamus who raised his glass in acknowledgment and, after being unceremoniously hugged by every Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girl in the room, he stumbled out into the night.

Luckily for him, Snape was waiting just outside and caught him before he ended up face first in the dirt. "My Prince Charming," Harry said, grinning stupidly up at him.

Snape stood him upright, and when he swayed, wrapped an arm around his waist. "Remind me to never give you anything other than Butterbeer," Snape growled, tossing Harry's other arm around his shoulder. "You become delusional."

"I thought you said you liked me no matter what state of mind I'm in," Harry sulked, wrapping his other arm around Snape's stomach. His chin just barely touched Snape's shoulder, which really was a pity because he wanted nothing more than to rest his chin there at the moment.

"I won't carry you like a toddler," Snape warned as Harry rested more weight on him. "I may love you no matter what, but that doesn't mean I have to like you," Snape said haughtily.

Harry giggled. "You said you love me. Don't remember you saying that before, but it's all good cause I love you too, Sevvie."

"Calling me 'Sevvie' would be an instance in which I don't like you," Snape said, scowling at Harry. "And if you call me that again, particularly in public, I shall tie you to to my bed using your blasted Gryffindor tie and torture you until you remember."

Harry's eyes glittered mischievously, seemingly sober. "Was that a promise or a threat?"

"A threat of a promise," Snape said, his eyes darkening as he looked at Harry, feeling the familiar desire pooling in his stomach. Of course the idiot boy had to go and get himself drunk, which put a damper on some of Snape's plans for the night. But there was always tomorrow.

Pulling him closer, Snape smiled against the top of Harry's head. A real and genuine smile.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for reading! 


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